


Anything But

by MoonSword1994



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Bonding, Broadway, Broadway References, Bullies, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Father-Daughter Relationship, Italian Mafia, Lies, Light Angst, Mafioso!Ryuk, Memories, Multi, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Private Investigator!Light, Really Smart Child, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Theatre, Unrequited Love, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10020560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonSword1994/pseuds/MoonSword1994
Summary: This was not the plan. None of this had been how he wanted it. All he wanted was a peaceful, normal life and now it was anything but.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really not sure what to do with this or if I should even continue. That's where you all come in! I'm going to let you all decide if this story is interesting enough to keep going or if I should completely scrap the idea. If I don't hear anything at all, I'm going to scrap it. Enjoy!

There are two types of people in the world, those who stand out and those who blend in; of those two types there are multiple categories, those who stand out and want to blend in, those who strive to stand out and want to remain that way, those who blend in but endeavor to stand out and those who blend in and want to stay that way. I fall into an in between category that very few ever consider, I stand out but not of my own volition, and I hardly want to blend in. I do things that make me stand out yet it is not out of the desire to stand out that I do these things. I thought it would be almost impossible to meet someone like me, but I was proven wrong one fateful day. The man in question too stood out for a variety of reasons, not because he wanted to by choice, yet at the same time these gifts prevented him from seeking obscurity. Together we stand out against our wishes and together we do not want to fade into the background.

When we first met, it was by pure chance. Our line of work crossed paths when we met at the same crime scene. You see, I am a private investigator, I was previously a detective with the police force but for various reasons I sought to forge my own path; this, however, did not stop my father, Chief of Police Soichiro Yagami, from calling me in whenever a case of interest presented itself. That day was no different.

Arriving on the scene, I see a crowd of people already gathered around the police cars, all of them whispering to their neighbor about what they think has happened or what they have heard from eavesdropping on the police entering and leaving the residence. When they see me, the whispers increase in speed and I walk by casually, hardly paying them any mind. Idle gossip is useful in some instances but not until after I have examined the crime scene.

Upon entering the house, I can instantly tell that something is different about this crime, the police waiting inside are nervous and fidgety. There is the distinct odor of fear permeating the air in this house and have a sneaking suspicion as to why. I spot my father’s second-in-command almost immediately and I head for him directly.

“Detective Aizawa,” I say as I approach and he turns to face me. “A pleasure to see you.”

“And you, Light,” says Aizawa, before checking his silver pocket watch, an indication among the police force that he is a detective. “You got here rather quickly, how many driving violations did you commit?”

I grin slyly. “Not enough to endanger anyone.”

Aizawa chuckles. “Well, so long as no one was hurt, I guess I can let it slide.”

Before he was a detective, Aizawa had been in traffic control unit.

“Where’s the Chief?” I ask as I look around for any sign of him.

“In the kitchen talking with the victim’s wife,” replies Aizawa solemnly. “It seems the victim was home alone when the intruder broke in through the back door and startled him while he was napping in the living room. He was shot before he could get off of the couch.”

I make a mental note of all that he tells me. “Who’s the victim?”

This seems to put Aizawa on edge. “Paul Ciresi, the son of—”

“Cesare Ciresi,” I finish, all too familiar with the name of one of the most notorious Italian dons in the state. “Have you determined whether this is mob related?”

Aizawa shrugs. “It looks like a hit to us, but we’ve yet to determine which of the families actually committed it.”

“Mind if I take a look?” I ask and he nods, pointing at the first room on the right where one line of police tape had been pulled across the entrance.

I head for that room immediately, a little irritated that Aizawa thought it was necessary to tell me exactly which room the crime scene is in despite it being painfully obvious. I duck under the tape and stand in the doorway for a moment as I take in the scene; there are a few photographers taking pictures while detectives mill about, apparently satisfied with the work they have done thus far. I see the body of the victim still on the sofa he had died on, a white sheet draped over him and I head over to it, careful not to tread through the evidence. When I arrive, I first observe the body’s current position; it is supine, the head on the armrest and limbs perfectly straight as if the man were still sleeping. I notice the blood splatter on the walls, it goes straight back and up but the only blood on the floor or sofa is that from the victim himself. Immediately I realize something is off, so I pull out my notepad and begin writing down my observations.

While I write, I pull back the sheet to see what the victim’s injury looks like, as I suspected it is a single gunshot wound to the head. I pull the sheet down a bit more and see the man is wearing a newly purchased white dress shirt, although now it is stained with his blood. I look up and see a black suit jacket hanging on a chair nearby; it looks as new as the shirt and just as well made. Whatever this is, it was definitely staged to appear as a mob hit, the key word being ‘staged’. There is so much wrong with this crime scene that it is almost a crime the police are not treating this with more seriousness; true to form, whenever the mob was involved in a crime, the police backed off either out of fear or they were on the payroll. I already had a good idea who is on the mob’s payroll and most of them are in this room, the ones that are not are still loyal to my father and likely in the kitchen with the man’s widow and son.

“Hey, Detective Asahi!” says a voice and I turn to see Ukita entering the room, a smile on his face. “I thought the Chief said something about you coming to take a look at the place.”

Ukita always had a way of taking something as interesting as a murder scene and make it sound like he is planning on giving me a tour of a house he just purchased.

“Yes, well, he thought I might be interested,” I say with a slight shrug and put my notepad away. “Has the man’s widow said anything useful?”

“Not really,” sighs Ukita. “She and their son were out running errands, actually she and her husband planned on attending some party this evening and she came back to drop off their son and pick him up when she found him like this.”

 _‘That would explain the shirt and jacket,’_ I think to myself as I nod along with Ukita’s information. “Do you know where this party was being held?”

“At the mayor’s mansion,” replies Ukita and I have to suppress a groan; the mob might be dirty, but socialites love them. “Anyway, you should go speak to the Chief, at least let him know you’re here.”

I nod again and then head out of the room. Ukita is one of the few men on my father’s police force that is not dirty, there are others including Aizawa but the rest of them are receiving at least $100 from the mob or some crime organization monthly. This is one of the reasons I chose to become a private investigator. I pass Aizawa in the hall and continue towards the kitchen at the back of the house, I almost find it hard to believe that this man was connected to the mob; the house is too small and not full of expensive things like most. Then when I enter the kitchen, I see the wife sitting with my father at the kitchen table and I understand exactly why the house is small and furnished so sparsely.

The woman is probably younger than I am by a good ten years, even my little sister is older than this woman; she is wearing a red evening gown with small gems sewn across the bust and the hem, her jewelry is opulent to say the very least, her engagement ring alone would ensure she sank to the bottom of the Hudson. Her bright blonde hair is pulled tightly on top of her head, with strands of diamonds woven throughout. The only thing that ruins her image, at least to me, is the cigarette smoke circling her head. I glance at her three-year-old son sitting at the kitchen table with her, compared to his mother he looks to be wearing rags. I know for a fact the gangster lying dead in the living room was in his mid-forties and had been married before to a woman closer to his age and had six kids with her. Between paying for his old and new families, I am amazed he had any money left at all.

“Mrs. Ciresi, I know this is difficult,” says my father calmly as he hands the woman his handkerchief and she immediately uses it to dab the few tears trickling down her face. “But I need you to remember exactly what happened today, including what you and your son were doing.”

“We was runnin’ errands!” replies Mrs. Ciresi, her nasally voice and horrific grammar makes it abundantly clear why the man married her. “I tells you that before!”

 _‘God, who taught this woman to speak?’_ I wonder as she doubles over with loud sobs. “Ma’am, I’m Private Investigator Asahi, and I’d like to ask you something.”

Mrs. Ciresi looks up at me and I see her blue eyes gleam with interest; the nerve of some people is amazing. Her demeanor instantly changes from that of a grieving widow to that of a young woman interested in an attractive man; again, I can see why the gangster married her.

“Of course, Mr. Asahi,” she says, her voice a bit softer, her eyes darting to my left hand to see if I am wearing a ring; I am and I see the disappointment on her face but she is quick to mask it. “What do you wanna know?”

I screw up the most charming smile I can. “Mrs. Ciresi, I’d like to know why a lovely lady such as yourself was running errands dressed like that. Surely you didn’t want to ruin your dress before the party this evening?”

“Call me Opal,” says Mrs. Ciresi in a honeyed tone. “And to answer your question, I didn’t run errands like this, I came home and changed.”

“And what time would you say you came home to change?” I press, knowing that we are close to unraveling something.

Mrs. Ciresi shrugs. “I’d says about four-thirty, five maybe? Paulie wasn’t home yet . . .” She trails off and there is something bitter in the way she looks now.

“Where was your husband?” I ask cautiously, knowing she might lash out if provoked; it seemed to be a common trait amongst mobsters’ wives.

“With some slut,” she drawls as she takes a drag of her cigarette, and her little boy stares at his mother curiously. “He’s been screwin’ around on me for months! All because I says I might be knocked up again.”

“You’re pregnant?!” I exclaim despite myself, she hardly seems to be in the family way.

She nods. “I’d bet my diamond ring on it, Detective. I’m never wrong ‘bout these kinda things. Paulie was happy but he uses it as an excuse not to fu—”

“Maybe your son should leave the room?” interrupts my father and I nod in agreement.

“Why?” she asks, clearly oblivious. “Ain’t like he hasn’t heard the word before. Shit, he says it more’n I do.”

I look at the little boy still sitting quietly in the chair; he has his mother’s eyes and father’s face, giving him almost a cherubic appearance. I find it hard to believe that this sweet looking boy says such horrific words but then again if his mother casually says them in front of him then he just might.

“Regardless, could you please restrain yourself from using those words for the time being?” I ask in a hard voice and she rolls her eyes. “Now, your husband was having an affair and wasn’t home when you were. What time do you think he got home?”

“It was after five,” she replies, clearly annoyed. “Can I go now? I didn’t shoot him but I wish I had, all right? Whoever did is probably in hot water with his daddy and did it for revenge. Happens all the time, or so Paulie said.”

“Alright then,” says Soichiro as he stands up. “Mrs. Ciresi, do you have someone who you could stay with? Someplace you could go where you and your son would be safe?”

“My in-laws,” she replies, flicking some ash on the table. “Gotta wait for my dumb maid to get back though, she went out for somethin’ and ain’t back yet.”

“We’ll have an officer wait with you then,” says Soichiro and he looks to his assistant. “Matsuda, I’d like you to wait here and guard Mrs. Ciresi and her son. Make sure you call her in-laws to let them know you’ll be bringing them and the maid over as soon as you can.”

“Yes, sir, Chief,” says Matsuda brightly although he seems less than happy at the prospect and so does Mrs. Ciresi.

“Why can’t Detective Asahi guard me?” she asks, looking up me and batting her eyelashes.

“Detective Asahi isn’t under my jurisdiction,” replies Soichiro simply as he joins me at the door. “And he has other cases to work besides this one. Excuse us.”

My father and I step out of the room, both of us letting out a long sigh once the door is closed.

“So, what do you think?” he asks as we head to the front of the house.

“It wasn’t a professional mob hit,” I reply quietly. “The blood splatter, it’s not congruent with how the victim was found and he was wearing formal clothes so he definitely wasn’t napping. This whole scene was staged to look like a hit when it really wasn’t.”

He nods. “What do you think about the widow?”

“She’ll be remarried in six months or less,” I say and he chokes on his laughter, trying to maintain a professional appearance. “And no, she didn’t kill him. She might be angry that he was sleeping around but he kept her in diamonds and pretty dresses courtesy of his father; without him, there goes her golden goose. Still, she’s probably hiding something. If the timeline is correct, she was home when he was shot and might know more than she’s willing to share. It would also be beneficial to speak with his ex-wife and see what she has to say and maybe find out whom he was seeing this evening.”

“I’ll get my men on that,” says Soichiro as we step aside to let a brunette woman through.

I glance at the woman, she is shorter than I am and has her hair pulled back in a tight bun, she is wearing a knee length black dress with a new pair of nylon stockings and flat black shoes. I barely catch a glimpse of the pieces of white apron visible from the back.

“I guess the maid’s back,” I say and my father nods. “You should speak with her too.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” says Soichiro as we exit the house. “You should get home, it’s getting late.”

We stop at the bottom of the stairs, ignoring the crowd around us and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Tell my granddaughter ‘hello’ for me,” he says softly and I nod before heading for my car while he goes to speak with a nearby officer and the coroner waiting to take the body away.

As I walk to my car I get the distinct feeling that I am being watched, this is hardly abnormal when a crime scene is concerned but this is different, like the person is looking at my soul rather than my person. It is rather irksome. I casually look around, trying to find the pair of eyes violating me when I see a man standing in a dark trench coat, wearing a black fedora. He is looking directly at me; his eyes are so dark it is like staring into an abyss, and they stand out even more against the pale white of his skin. His face is expressionless and I am curious why he is here, standing far away from the crowd when he would have heard more if he were with them. We stare at each other for a moment, our eyes locking for a short time before I look away and hurry to my car, when I get in and look back up his eyes are still on me and I pull away with a hollow feeling in my stomach.

* * *

When I pull up to my apartment building, I let out a sigh of relief, it feels so good to finally be home after a long day. I park my car in the garage and then head up to my fourth floor apartment, the tension in my shoulders dissipating with each stair I climb until I am finally at my door, I unlock it and head inside. I take off my homburg hat and overcoat, hanging them on the hooks by the door, my daughter’s red cardigan is already on the hook and her penny colored Mary Jane’s are placed beneath. I smile a little as I toe-off my shoes, my little girl is certainly growing into a responsible young lady.

“Daddy!” I hear her shout and within seconds she is in the hallway, already in her pajamas, a bright smile on her face when she sees me. “I’m so glad you’re home!”

I kneel down and open my arms to her, she runs at top speed and throws herself into my embrace, I wrap my arms around her and kiss her cheek twice and she then does the same to me. All the aches and pains of the day simply melt away when I hold my daughter.

“How was your day, Nori?” I ask as I stand up, carrying her to the living room.

“It was good,” she replies, her arms still wrapped around my neck. “I borrowed some books from the library.”

“She actually wanted the whole library to herself,” says my daughter’s nanny, Rem from the sofa when I enter, a worn smile on her pale face. “We took her red wagon with us and by the time she had finished picking out what she wanted to read, we had books sliding off the pile.”

“There were so many good ones,” says Noriko simply as she moves in my arms so she can look at Rem and I can see she is frowning. “Then that mean lady laughed at me before taking a lot of my books.”

I give Rem a curious look. “What mean lady? And why did she laugh at Noriko and take her books?”

Rem seems a little reluctant to answer but she shrugs. “She’s referring to the librarian, Mr. Yagami, and the woman laughed at Noriko when she said she was going to read all of the books she had picked out. The librarian then took back almost all of the books except for the few elementary school level books Noriko had picked out for her reading assignment; I did check out a couple of the higher level books for her myself.”

“How many books has Noriko read since you got home?” I ask, making a mental note to check out some of those books for Noriko and maybe tell off that nasty librarian.

“Eight!” declares Noriko happily, pointing to the stack of books in my armchair. “I read some of them out loud to Rem so she knew I was really reading them. That’s what Miss Takada said we have to do so we can practice.”

Rem smiles fondly as she stands up, she is still as graceful as the dancer she had been a number of years ago, and I am instantly reminded of a swan when I see her rise; her white blonde hair emphasizing the description. “She did an excellent job at reading, Mr. Yagami. I signed off on the paperwork for her assignment, saying she read the assigned books and adding that her teacher might want to let her read at a higher level.”

“I hope Miss Takada heeds our advice this time,” I sigh as I put Noriko down. “Now, pick out a book for us to read and I’m going to walk Rem to her apartment, alright?”

Noriko nods and heads to my armchair, where she promptly begins sorting through the books for one to read to me; I have to keep from laughing when I see the look of contemplation and seriousness in her young face, she reminds me so much of myself at times. I look to Rem who is also watching Noriko with a fond sadness then she sees me watching her and instantly changes her expression to one of weary contentedness and we head for the door together. I help her into her bright red coat and then open the door for her, she smiles at me and pats my shoulder affectionately.

“Did she have any trouble today?” I ask in a low voice, knowing Noriko may be able to hear us even this far away from her.

Rem shakes her head. “No, she was very happy when she got out of school. I think the bullies have given up for the moment, thank god.”

“Good,” I say and glance behind me to make sure she is still not there. “Let me know the moment they start again, I’ll go have another talk with Miss Takada about it.”

“I will, Light,” she says before sighing heavily. “She asked about Misa again, I told her a funny story from when we began working together but I think she wanted to hear one about you and her.” Rem fixes me with a harsh glare from her steel grey eyes. “You can’t keep skirting the issue, Light, the girl wants to know about her mother and you’re the only one who can give her that.”

I sigh and rub my eyes, I really did not want to have this discussion with Rem, again. “I know, I know, and I will. I’m just not sure how to go about telling her and in all honesty, I’m not sure _what_ to tell her. Our romance wasn’t exactly noteworthy.”

Rem shakes her head. “It might not have been to you, but it would be to her; after all, you and Misa are her parents. You should tell her before Ryuk decides to educate her about it, I’ve heard some of his more colorful embellishments of your first meeting with Misa.”

“Yes, he does enjoy exaggerating,” I say with a slight smile and then Rem heads to her apartment across the hall from mine.

I watch her walk then enter her home before closing and locking the door to my own. Then I head back into the living room, expecting to find Noriko but she is not there so I then go to her bedroom and find her happily under her covers, book in hand.

“Come on, Daddy, I want to read to you!” says Noriko excitedly and I hurry over to her bed, sitting beside her with my arms wrapped around her as best I can.

“What’s this one called?” I ask as she snuggles against me.

“ _The Magical Land of Noom_!” she announces as she opens the cover and begins to read about two siblings who built a flying machine to explore unknown regions.

I rest against her pillows and listen quietly as she reads, her voice lulling me to sleep as my mind drifts to a place where mushrooms taste like ginger cake and lemonade comes from a spring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, due to popular demand, I have decided to resume this story and see it through to the end. I hope you all enjoy it and savor every word. ;)

I am hardly surprised to see Ryuk stumbling into our office the next morning, the man is hardly ever on time and when he is, it is usually because I am the one who brought him to work. He haphazardly hangs his hat and coat on the coat rack, revealing his wrinkled grey suit pants and matching jacket, his dark grey dress shirt is in slightly better condition but not by much and his black tie is off center just enough to be distracting. If he were not so damn good at his job, I would have asked him to leave ages ago.

“Hey Light-o,” says Ryuk as he sits down at his desk, leaning back and putting his feet on the wooden surface. “Nori get off to school okay?”

“Yes,” I reply tightly, glaring at him. He already looks unprofessional; he should not emphasize the fact by sitting like a slob.

Ryuk glances at me and lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh before putting his feet back on the floor. “What’s the big deal, Light? Hardly anyone ever comes here, so what if I put my feet on the desk?”

I refrain from rolling my eyes, a difficult task to be sure. “Even so, we should still present ourselves as if people are coming and going from this office regularly, otherwise a potential client might rethink hiring us.”

“We’ve been at this for almost four years and we’ve never had the public breaking down our door,” argues Ryuk as he runs a hand through his unruly black hair; his hair is truly extraordinary, it is so black it looks almost blue in sunlight and has never been able to lay flat without an exorbitant amount of Brilliantine applied to it first. Rem told me that the only time his hair ever looked presentable was on their wedding day and even then he had to keep reapplying the product to maintain the style. Now he just puts a little on it before he puts on his hat, although most of the time he seems to forget.

“Things could change,” I say with a shrug as I reach for the morning’s paper, wondering how Demegawa printed up the Mafia murder. As I thought, it is the front-page story:

_Beloved Socialite and Suspected Mobster Paul Ciresi Assassinated_

_Last night around five o clock, Paul Ciresi was assassinated while napping before he was expected to attend the charity ball at the Mayor’s estate. No one is suspected in the murder but there are rumors of a possible Vanetti Family involvement._

“What trash,” I mutter as I forcefully open the paper to any page other than the front cover. Demegawa has always been a big supporter of the local Mafia families; he sensationalizes them every opportunity and is smart enough not to pick a side. The Families are lucky to have someone so prominent in the press as an ally. He makes prosecuting any Mafia member a true headache as he will publish stories about crooked cops and compromised politicians until the charges are dropped. On the next page is a picture from just outside Paul Ciresi’s house of my father and his detectives, another of Paul’s body being moved on a gurney, and finally of his wife and son being escorted into a limousine by Matsuda.

I nearly turn the page when I notice something strange in the background. I reach for the magnifying glass on my desk and lay the newspaper flat; using the glass I look harder at the first picture and see the man from yesterday. The man is wearing the same black trench coat and fedora I had seen him wearing earlier, and his face is the same blinding white. It must be him; there is no one else it could possibly be. Why was he in all of these pictures and why was he still at the crime scene? My father did not hire any new detectives and as far as I knew I was the only private investigator he called that evening. Still, it would be worth checking out, after all this man could be responsible for the assassination. It is my theory, one that tends to be proven right repeatedly, that criminals often visit the scenes of past crimes to relive them. This man might be doing the same.

“What did your father want yesterday?” asks Ryuk as he pulls out an apple from his briefcase. The man uses it as his lunch pail more than anything.

“Paul Ciresi was murdered,” I reply as I carefully tear the pictures of the man from the newspaper.

Ryuk makes several choking sounds and I look up to see him banging on his chest as he struggles to breathe. I jump up to help him but he gives me a jerky wave as he splutters and coughs until finally he takes a deep breath.

“Who the hell is stupid enough to murder him?” he asks, his burgundy eyes a little watery and cheeks pink from the coughing episode. “His father controls the docks and half of downtown, there’s no telling what kind of war this might start.”

I nod as I sit back down. “I know, this is really bad and likely will lead to some kind of retribution, if the assassin’s identity is revealed.”

Ryuk snorts derisively. “Considering the nature of this situation, I bet you anything the cops put this at the top of their priority list. Probably hoping to get a few more clams thrown their way.”

“You’re probably right but no one’s going to get anywhere,” I say as I look at the pictures I tore from the newspaper. “At least not through conventional channels.” I put the pictures in my desk drawer. “Ryuk, let’s take a walk.”

“Where were you thinking?” asks Ryuk as he stands up clearly pleased at the turn of events.

I stand up and straighten my jacket and tie. “The Harbor.”

* * *

The New York Harbor is deep in Ciresi Family territory and is responsible for the entry of most goods into the city, including illegal bottles of liquor from overseas that are then sold to speakeasies throughout the state. Most of the country’s liquor supply seems to depend on moonshiners and bathtub gin makers, but here in New York the people just have to know a guy who knows a guy in order to get top shelf alcohol. My father spends most of his time trying to nail the ships bringing in the bottles but cannot seem to uncover how they are able to sneak the stuff past customs. Every time he searches a ship, there is not a single trace of liquor to be found, but it still ends up on the streets.

When Ryuk and I pull up, there is a ship in the dock and about a dozen people offloading crates and a dozen more loading them up into different trucks. My grip on the steering wheel tightens just a fraction, this might have been my idea, but this is actually Ryuk’s area of expertise and I trusted him when he said there was a guy here who knew Paul Ciresi well. Still, this does not make the visit any more pleasant. Ryuk is the first to leave the car, a good thing too because most of these people will know him and he can defuse any potentially tense situation. I follow him moments later.

“Ryuk!” shouts a man in a dark suit with a clipboard. “How are you doing, my friend?”

Ryuk smirks as he struts over to the man; they shake hands and kiss each other’s cheeks, a typical Mafia greeting. “I’m doing well, Tony, how about you?”

“Doing well, doing well,” says Tony and he glances over Ryuk’s shoulder at me and frowns. “The hell is he doing here?”

Ryuk glances back at me and then back at Tony. “We’re investigating Paulie’s death, Detective Asahi here just wanted to ask a few questions.”

Tony smirks. “Is that what he’s calling himself, is it?” He then looks at me, his dark eyes sparkling maliciously. “How you doing, Yagami? That daughter of yours is what, seven now? Must be quite the handful.”

I clench my jaw and shove my fists in my jacket pocket before I can reach for the gun concealed against my left side. “No, she’s eight, just turned it a couple of months ago.”

“Eight huh? Jeez, I can’t believe it’s been six years since Misa died,” sighs Tony, sounding sincere for once. “Such a waste, she had such potential, at least until she married you.”

“Tony, we didn’t come to catch up,” says Ryuk sternly, squaring his shoulders and making sure his voice carried a tone of warning. “He wants to help figure out who killed Paulie before this erupts into an all out war. I know Cesare doesn’t want that, and neither do, it’d be bad for business.”

Tony nods. “I know, and we’ve already put pressure on the cops to start looking into the Vanetti Family, they’re our biggest competitors right now what with their new moonshine and Paulie was in charge of the speakeasies. My bet is one of the Vanetti boys tried to muscle in, Paulie put a stop to it, and in retaliation they whacked Paulie.”

“But how are you so sure it was the Vanettis?” I ask, taking a few steps closer so I am beside Ryuk. “There wasn’t any evidence at the scene that they were responsible, I know their calling card, and I didn’t see it anywhere.”

“Really? No white rose anywhere?” asks Tony, sounding skeptical and suspicious.

I shake my head. “Not even a petal. Believe me I checked and if there had been one, I would be at their place in Long Island rather than here talking to you. So tell me, what’s changed? As far as I know, business has been good and all feuds have been taken care of.”

Tony shrugs. “The only thing that’s different is the moonshine coming from the Vanettis, they got some kids working for them and one of them was seen around trying to peddle the shit in our territory.”

“What’s Cesare doing about it?” asks Ryuk, scanning the dockworkers and the crates.

“He’s arranged for a sit down with their boss,” replies Tony as he glances down at his clipboard. “Supposed to happen in a few days and they’ll sort out this business then.”

“So then why would the Vanettis kill Paulie if they knew they were going to meet with Cesare anyway?” I wonder aloud and Tony shrugs. I remember something Paul’s widow mentioned yesterday. “Tony, do you know if Paulie was seeing another woman?”

Tony seems reluctant to answer but one look from Ryuk prompts him to spill his guts.

“Yeah, he was seeing someone,” says Tony, glancing at Ryuk. “Some up and coming Broadway bird, real doll too, big blue eyes and hair the color of gold.”

I swallow hard; others had used the description in the past to depict Misa. “She got a name?” It sounds to me like Paul Ciresi had a thing for young women with blonde hair and blue eyes, as his second wife and mistress share both features.

“It’s not Beatrix Taylor, is it?” asks Ryuk, more familiar with all the comings and goings of Broadway than I.

“Sure is,” says Tony, he sounds almost proud. “Paulie was so proud of being with her, said he was going to get a divorce from what’s her face and marry Miss Taylor.”

Now this is interesting. “Why would he leave his current wife if she were in the family way?” I ask and Ryuk makes a face, despite all his talk he is rather traditional when it comes to some things and marriage is one of them.

Tony laughs. “That woman isn’t pregnant, she was just trying to stall Paulie from filing. Hell, he didn’t even believe that Peter was his own kid.” Tony then sobers up a bit and his shoulders stoop slightly. “Felt bad for the guy, you know? We all told him not to marry her but she said she was pregnant and that it was his so he had to marry her. He started seeing Miss Taylor about a week after he got married. She actually had a kid with him just after Opal, a little girl, Angela.”

 _‘So he’s been paying for three families for almost four years and his new wife had no idea about the third one, and it might be a good idea to speak to Miss Taylor,’_ I realize as I pull out my pad of paper and begin writing what I learned down. “Do you know if he ever did file for divorce?”

Tony nods again. “He did, a couple of weeks ago actually, he was going to tell Opal after the Mayor’s party; one last night out before it was all over . . . guess it really is all over now . . .”

Ryuk puts a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tony, we’ll find the bastard responsible.” He then reaches into his coat pocket and extracts a plain white business card. “Here’s my card, our office number is on it, call us if you find out anything new.”

“Why you and not the cops?” asks Tony, sounding hostile as he takes the card.

“The cops won’t be interested in what a guy like you has to say,” replies Ryuk with a slight sneer. “They want to hear from someone actually in power, not some lackey who only sees Cesare every few months. I know you Tony, and I know you were close to Paulie. You’re the man to come to for answers and I expect you to not let me down.”

Tony looks at the card and then back at Ryuk. “I will, Ryuk, I promise.” He then looks at me and I have to fight against glaring. “Don’t do anything stupid, Yagami, we don’t need a repeat of six years ago.”

Ryuk steps between us, probably sensing my desire to rip his throat out. “He’ll do his job, Tony so long as you do yours. See you around and stay out of trouble.” Ryuk turns around and gestures for me to do the same, I do so reluctantly and we begin walking for the car.

“Thanks,” says Tony brightly. “Oh and Ryuk, I’ll have your shipment brought to your place later this week, sound good?”

“Sounds great, Tony,” replies Ryuk as I open the driver’s side door and slide in. He stands beside the car with the passenger’s door wide open. “If Rem isn’t home, then leave it in the usual place.”

“You got it!” said Tony as he turned around and headed back for the crates.

Ryuk chuckles as he slips into the car and shuts the door. “That guy, what a character.”

“What shipment is he talking about?” I ask without so much as glancing at him.

“Apples,” replies Ryuk casually, as if this were a normal conversation. “He gets some of the best in from the West coast and tosses a crate or two my way. What’s the big deal?”

I glare at him. “The big deal is when we started working together, you swore you wouldn’t act as a Mafioso!”

“And I haven’t!” argues Ryuk. “I haven’t once done a hit or robbed anyone or helped smuggle liquor into the city since we started. I’ve done as you asked and kept my nose clean, but I still have to do things to maintain my influence with these guys, Light you know that.” He takes off his hat and runs a hand over his head. “Damn it Light, how else am I supposed to keep up my connections? Connections that have helped you solve cases while as a member of the police force and as a PI.”

It is a hard truth to accept, that my friend and someone I trust with my child is an active member of the Mafia but I have to if I want to get anything done in this city. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,” I say at last, letting out a long sigh. “It’s just . . . he . . . damn it . . .”

I feel something on my shoulder and look to see Ryuk’s hand. I look at him and see the saddest expression on his face.

“I know, he was wrong to bring Misa up,” he says quietly. “He shouldn’t have and he knew it, but he was feeling ballsy in front of his men so he took a few cheap shots. I’ll speak to Cesare about it later.”

“Does he still think I’m oblivious to the fact you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on me?” I ask with a cheeky grin as I start up the car and begin to pull away from the dock.

Ryuk cackles. “That poor bastard doesn’t even realize that I was the one who went to you instead of the other way around.”

“What have you told him lately?” I ask as I pull into the empty street.

“Just that you still haven’t had steady customers and that the police use you as a consultant,” replies Ryuk with a shrug. “I tell him that Noriko’s healthy and—”

“You tell him about her?!” I shout angrily. I knew Ryuk was reporting on me but I had no idea he was keeping tabs on Noriko as well.

Ryuk rolls his eyes. “Light, I’m going to tell him about your daughter, he wants to know everything important about your life. I don’t give any details out like where she goes to school or that Rem is her nanny. I just say I see her sometimes and she seems to be doing well.”

I relax just a little, at least that bastard does not know much about Noriko. “Rem mentioned that Nori’s been asking about her mother.”

“Oh yeah?” says Ryuk, his voice holds an interested lilt. “Did you tell her anything?”

I snort. “Oh yeah, I told her everything about how her mother was an actress who partied every night, how her parents were worried about her so they and my parents arranged our marriage, and how she wouldn’t come home at night even after she had Noriko. Yeah, I told her everything.”

Ryuk lets out a sharp sigh. “Don’t be so flippant, Light, I know you cared about her.”

“Maybe in the beginning, but after that I tried not to,” I snap, keeping my eyes on the road rather than look at him. I can practically feel the smug grin on his face.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have done what you did after she was killed,” says Ryuk sternly, “and you sure as hell wouldn’t still be wearing your wedding ring or remained unmarried all this time. If you hadn’t loved her, even a little, you would’ve given Noriko a mother and gotten yourself a wife by now.”

My temper and guilt get the better of me and I bang my fist on top of the steering wheel, it hurts so much to be reminded of Misa and how much she did mean to me. When we were first married, I had been happy and even hopeful that it would be a good life, that she would be happy with the arrangement as well. What a fool I was.

“Look, you don’t have to tell her everything,” says Ryuk calmly, probably not wanting to incite my anger more. “Just tell her how you met, that’s a pretty romantic story.”

“Only when you tell it,” I say softly and I feel my eyes burn slightly with tears. “I can’t tell her anything, Ryuk, because that will lead to other questions and I’ll have to tell Noriko the truth; I can’t lie to her about her mother.”

Ryuk sighs heavily. “Light, a few white lies every now and then won’t hurt, especially if you’re protecting something or someone important to Nori.”

I shake my head. “These would be more than white lies and you know it. How do you expect me to tell my little girl that her own mother didn’t want her?”

“I don’t know,” says Ryuk quietly and we drive back to our office in complete silence.


	3. Chapter 3

When we arrive back at the office, my sister Sayu is at her desk in the front office, typing away at something on her typewriter. She works part-time at our parents' flower store and acts as my secretary, but I have used her as an investigator before. Like me she can look at things from an analytical perspective and with her disarming kindness and an easy smile can quickly get people to start talking. It does not hurt that she is also attractive and most of my clients tend to be male. Her husband, Matsuda, has yet to object to her having the job and I thank my lucky stars that he is a little less traditional than most.

Sayu looks up and smiles brightly when she sees us. “Hi Light, hi Ryuk,” she says cheerily. “How was the Harbor?”

Ryuk and I share a look of complete disbelief, how did she know where we were?

"I saw your car heading in that direction," she says as if reading our thoughts. "So, did you learn anything useful?"

"Only that the Vanetti connection doesn't hold water," I say as I sit down in front of her desk. "Did we get any calls?"

To my surprise, Sayu nods. "You did, from some actress. She wants to speak to you. Apparently, she was the last one to see Paul Ciresi alive, and she doesn't want to go to the police."

I can understand that the police tend to become somewhat narrow-minded when it comes to a fact like that and it can lead to ruined reputations or worse depending on the circumstances. I have spoken to the person who last saw a murder victim before, and then I presented my findings to my father who typically goes in the direction I suggest. This sounds about the same.

"Was it Beatrix Taylor?" I ask, and again Sayu nods, hardly surprised that I already know the name of the woman. "Did she say where we could find her?"

"The theatre downtown," replies Sayu as she hands me a piece of paper with her shorthand scrawled on it. "There's the complete message. Oh, and the man's widow called right after. Apparently, she wants a one-on-one interview with you, Light." She hands me the other message.

I groan as I recall Opal Ciresi and her less than thinly veiled interest in me. “Ryuk, which one do you want?”

"I'll talk to Opal," he says from beside me, the hint of a grin in his rasping voice. "Mrs. Ciresi and Cesare might not be keen on having you around, even if it is at Opal's request. Trixie's a sweetheart, just be nice, and she'll tell you anything you want."

“Thanks,” I say with a slight smile. “By the way Sayu, why were you late today?”

"Mom needed me to help at the store," replies Sayu with a quick shrug. "There was a delivery this morning, and Todd and Sam hadn't shown up yet, so I helped move the boxes. Oh Ryuk, Rem's order of peonies came in."

"Thanks, Sayu," says Ryuk as he gets up and begins heading for the door. "I'm going to head over to Paul's place and speak with Opal."

“She’s not there,” I say as I put the messages in my jacket pocket and stand up. “She’s at her in-laws’ house; I guess you aren’t as well informed as you thought. Need a ride?”

Ryuk shakes his head. “Nah, I can use my car for this. And I am well informed, Light, that just happens to be a detail no one thought was worth mentioning.”

“If you’re so well informed, why were you so surprised that Paul was dead?” I counter with a triumphant smirk.

“I slept through the phone call!” says Ryuk, sounding embarrassed. “Anyway, I wish she hadn’t gone over to the house, having Mrs. Ciresi present will only complicate things.”

I snicker as I too head for the door. “Worried she’ll try to force her cooking on you?”

"Absolutely," sighs Ryuk. "The woman can make stuffed peppers that taste like a dream, but she doesn't seem to understand that no one person can eat a whole dish of them by themselves."

Sayu and I laugh at his plight. Ryuk is lanky and lean, and while he looks weak he is deceptively strong, but that does not seem to satisfy the Mafia boss' wife who made it her mission to fill out Ryuk's thin frame. There are days he has come to work looking as if he drank all night only for him to tell me he, in fact, ate five courses of food along with second helpings he did not require. He has brought in leftovers, and I can understand why it is difficult to refuse her cooking.

“Just ask for dessert instead of a full lunch,” suggests Sayu as she giggles. “And bring some back for me, I loved her tiramisu.”

“Fine, fine,” says Ryuk, waving his hand as he heads through the door.

I am about to as well when I remember something. “Sayu, could you call Dad and ask him if he’s hired any new detectives or PIs lately?”

“Sure,” she says as she resumes her typing. “Do you need me to pick up Nori from school?”

“If Rem can’t, could you please?” I ask, adding a slightly begging tone to my words.

“Of course,” says Sayu with a bright smile. “Have fun at the theatre.”

I smile as I head through the door. “Thanks, I will.”

* * *

 

The "theatre downtown" Sayu mentioned turns out to be the Manhattan Theatre, one of the most popular theatres in the city. The moment I pull up, I had transported back almost ten years, when I was an eighteen-year-old high school graduate. My friend Mikami, now one of the state's best prosecutors, brought me down here to celebrate our graduation and we watched the opening night performance of _Cinderella_. That was the first time I ever saw Misa. She was starring in the play as Cinderella, and she had been perfect for the role, she looked utterly angelic with her sun-colored hair and bright blue eyes that rivaled the color of the sky. When she sang, her voice only strengthened my assumption that she was an angel on Earth and she instantly enchanted me. After the performance, I insisted that we hang around outside, I wanted to see if I could catch another glimpse of Misa before we left but I told Mikami I was feeling a little sick from dinner.

When the back doors opened, and the cast began trickling out, people mobbed them; shouting words of encouragement and asking for them to sign various pieces of paper they shoved in their faces. I hung back and watched, waiting for the right moment to go up. The sea of people parted for a moment, and I saw Misa, she was standing with two other people who I would learn later were Rem and Ryuk, but at the time I only recognized Rem as the woman who played the Fairy Godmother, and Ryuk just looked like a bodyguard. I went right up and smiled at her before telling her how much I enjoyed her performance and that she should keep acting. She giggled and blushed, Rem rolled her eyes, and Ryuk snickered, apparently amused at my declaration.

_“Thank you,” she said, her speaking voice just as sweet as her singing one. “Maybe I’ll see you at one of my performances again.”_

The next time I saw her, it would be at the meeting between our families to arrange our marriage. I wonder if she recognized me from that day if she knew I had been there. Unconsciously I spin the ring on the fourth finger of my left hand, I never asked her. During our marriage, I was more concerned with making her behave and always worrying about her to even think about that night.

With a sigh I get out of the car, the nippy air of mid-September makes me pull my jacket tighter around me as I head into the theatre through the front entrance. I smile as I walk up to the ticket booth, the man working it nods when he sees me, and I pull out my badge. He glances at it and then me before jerking his thumb at one set of the two entrances into the playhouse. I put my badge away and head in, making sure to be as quiet as I can in case there is a rehearsal going on. I wish Rem was with me; she was still in good standing with the majority of the people here; my marriage to Misa ensured I burned any bridges before they could even be erected.

“No!” shouts a man, whose voice I immediately recognize. “No! No! No! Alice, you need to come in on the third beat, not the second.”

Alice, a dark-haired girl wearing a green dress, appears to be incredibly irate. "I did, you fool! I even counted, you're the one who isn't paying any attention."

“We open in a week,” he sighs dramatically. “I don’t need this, Alice, just do it right.”

“Fine,” huffs the woman before she goes back to stage left.

I smirk as I walk down the aisle towards the front row, the few times I was ever permitted into one of Misa’s performances had gone similarly to this one. “It seems you have your work cut out for you, Gregory,” I say as I near the director and he turns around, confirming my suspicions that he is indeed Misa’s old director. “What are you trying to stage?”

"A heartbreaking performance of Swan Lake," he replies a little stiffly. His white hair is coiffed over to the right, a perfectly straight part runs down the left side, and his almost silver-grey eyes scrutinize my every step. His trademark mustache is still present on his upper lip, well trimmed and shining. He seems to have put on a little weight since I last saw him at Misa's funeral but other than that the willowy man remains unchanged. "What are you doing here?"

“Police business,” I say coolly. “I received a call from Miss Taylor saying she wanted to speak with me.”

“Yes, I did,” says Beatrix as she comes in from stage right before Gregory can dismiss me. She is wearing a white dress that looks like a peony turned upside down, complete with light pink coloring on the tips of the fabric. “Hello, Detective.”

“Good morning,” I say as I take off my hat. “Is there someplace private we could talk?”

"My dressing room," she says immediately, and I hear Gregory sigh again, this time more deliberate than before. "I'll be back soon, Greg.”

“Fine,” huffs Gregory, glaring at me as I head up the steps at the side of the stage.

Beatrix smiles at me, and when I am beside her, we head off to stage right, and I pointedly ignore the glares that follow me as I trail behind the lead actress. Behind the scenes is as I expect it to be, full of people clustered in costume and stagehands running around checking the equipment. Many of them smile when they see Beatrix and ignore me if their eyes meet mine. Between this and the Mafia, I am hardly a favorite.

"Here we are," says Beatrix, sounding breathless when we arrive at a dark wood door with a small label containing her name nailed across it. She opens the door and gestures for me to enter; I hang back and gesture for her to do it first. She chuckles before heading inside, and I follow her, closing the door behind us.

"Sorry about Greg," she says as she sits down on a chaise lounge. "He's very protective of us; we're like his children."

I find a davenport nearby and sit on it, taking out my pad of paper and a pencil. "I can understand his sentiment; I'm a father myself."

Beatrix smiles pleasantly. “How old?”

“Eight,” I reply proudly. “What about you? Any kids?”

“Yes, a little girl,” she says, congenially enough. “She’s going to turn four. She’s a Christmas baby.”

“Mine’s a summer baby,” I say, remembering the hot day Noriko came into my life. “Miss Taylor, I want to thank you for coming forward. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

Beatrix's blue eyes fade just a little as if a shadow passed over and settled on them. "It's the right thing; it's what Paulie would've said to do. Detective, I didn't kill him. He came over to my apartment around four; he had an early dinner with our daughter and me, stayed to listen to the evening news for about twenty minutes and then left. I then bathed and dressed my daughter for bed before tucking her in and then I went to bed around six-thirty. I had an early morning, so I wanted to make sure I had plenty of sleep."

I write down her brief timeline. “Can anyone corroborate your story?”

“My daughter’s nanny,” replies Beatrix with a firm nod. “She stayed until I went to bed and then she left.”

"I would like to check with her, if you don't mind," I evenly say as I continue to write. "Could you please give me a name and address?"

"Her name is Louisa Bruno," she says, and I try not to groan at the Italian last name. The nanny is probably a spy for the Ciresi family. "And you can find her most days at my building, 210th Fifth Avenue apartment number 146.”

“Will she talk to me?” I ask, glancing up at her from my notepad.

Beatrix nods. “Of course, not everyone associated with the Mafia has something to hide, Detective.”

“You’re very open about your direct connect,” I say evenly, trying not to betray anything. “Was the rest of the Ciresi family familiar with you?”

"Oh yes," she says with a nod. "I've been over to Mrs. Ciresi's for Sunday dinner ever since I met Paulie; not even his wife did that. I've even met his first wife, Sophia, and her four kids. She likes me."

This is getting strange. “Miss Taylor, forgive me, but I don’t believe I can comprehend why Paul Ciresi didn’t marry you. Was there something inhibiting the marriage?”

"Other than his current wife?" she asks with a wry smile, and I nod. "Well, my career for one. I was just starting out when I met Paulie, and I wasn't about to stop, even if he said he wanted to marry me. He never did, but he talked about it. When I had my daughter, I thought my life was over, I was so mad about becoming a mother, and then a friend of mine told me to get a nanny, so I could leave the baby with her and continue acting. It's worked out great so far, she's a wonderful person, and I wouldn't be here without her."

I give her a strained smile, her distaste for motherhood reminds me a great deal of Misa. “Would you ever consider settling down?”

Beatrix shrugs. "Maybe one day, but not anytime soon. Even if I did, I wouldn't give up acting; I love it too much. Paulie said he was perfectly happy with me acting; he said he liked seeing the disappointment of my male fans whenever I stepped out on his arm." She begins to tear up. "He was proud of me, of us. I know he wanted to marry me, he brought up the subject countless times, and I told him I might consider it after this play, but it would have to be a long engagement. I wasn't going to make this easy for him, you see, not after all he put me through with Angela." She shakes her head as she reaches into her costume for a handkerchief and she quickly dabs her eyes. "What a fool I was to believe him. He said a woman doesn't get . . . You know . . . Until after the first time. Well, imagine my surprise when I didn't bleed after that."

It always amazes me what some people can say and what they cannot. She cannot say "pregnant, " but she can easily talk about her monthly and her ongoing affair, and quite candidly at that. "How long after he was married did Paul begin seeing you?” I ask casually, still writing in my notepad.

“A week,” she replies with a slightly bitter laugh. “I wish I hadn’t met him.”

I look up at her in surprise. “Why not?”

"Don't get me wrong, I loved the man, but I wish I had met him later in life," she explains quickly. "I'm only nineteen, Detective, and I was looking forward to a nice long career before I met Paul. I had considered retiring when I turned twenty-five, but now I have to keep going if I want to support Angela and myself."

Nineteen; this means she has been unmarried and a single mother since she was sixteen. Ryuk is not going to approve of that. "Miss Taylor, one last question and then I'll return you to Greg, was his wife aware that he saw you?"

“He said she knew he was seeing someone, just not who,” replies Beatrix with a slight sigh. “Detective, before you leave, I have a question for you.”

"Yes?" I curiously say as I stand up and put my notepad back in my jacket.

“What are the chances of someone coming after me?” she asks, sounding slightly terrified.

I smile reassuringly. “Very slim, Miss Taylor. You and your daughter should be safe.”

Beatrix visibly relaxes before standing up. She smoothes out her dress; a large diamond ring catches the dim light in the room as she does, and goes over to the mirror behind me, using the handkerchief to wipe away her perceived imperfections. I observe her; she seems far too calm after having lost someone very dear to her. As I watch her, I notice that her movements are reminiscent of Misa's, the way she daintily dabs the corner of her handkerchief against her eyes, the way she tilts her head just to the side to get better light in an area. I glance at her face; it is longer than Misa's, her cheekbones are more pronounced, and her mouth is thinner. Her blonde hair is darker almost ash blonde, and her eyes are a deeper blue. Her figure is not as curvy as Misa's, she is built more like a boy, and her chest is smaller. Motherhood did incredible things to Misa's body, but it does not appear to have blessed Beatrix the same way. Paul's widow is by far much prettier than Beatrix, but I can understand why Paul chose Beatrix's company over hers, you can carry on a conversation with this one.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” I say politely, she turns to me and smiles widely.

"Well, thank you for not jumping to conclusions like the police might," she says pleasantly as she finishes primping, tucking a stray piece of hair back into the bun on top of her head. "If you have any more questions, please stop by."

I smile. “I just might. Oh, Miss Taylor, how did you get my number? I don’t usually have theatre people call asking for my help.”

“Greg gave it to me,” she replies as she flounces over to the door, her skirt rustling around her as she moves. “Anyway, I should be going, goodbye!”

“Goodbye,” I say as she leaves, practically running for the stage.

I step out of the room, my hand on the cut glass doorknob when my eyes catch something on the doorframe. I look over and see a heart carved into the wood with two names engraved into it: Misa + Hideki. I glare at the artificial heart as I feel mine pound in my chest, just another reminder to add to the endless list. With a defiant pull, I slam the door shut over the heart before storming out of the theatre. It seems fate is making me face my demons sooner than I want to.

* * *

 

"Hi Daddy!" says Noriko when I enter my office. She is sitting at my desk with her homework in front of her. I look at the clock on the wall, it is barely noon, and she is already out of school.

“Hi Nori,” I say a little warily as I walk over to my desk. “What are you doing here?”

"I was feeling sick, so Aunt Sayu came to pick me up," she replies casually, using her fingers as a guide for her multiplication. "Are you working?"

“I was,” I reply, looking around for Sayu. “Where’s your aunt?”

Noriko points at the door without looking up from her work. “She went to drop off Uncle Touta’s lunch. I think she thought she would be back before you and Uncle Ryuk.”

“Apparently,” I say as I sit on my desk, my arms crossed. “You seem to be feeling fine, Noriko if you can do your work.”

Her hand stills and she slowly looks up at me. “It was a fast bug.”

I eye her critically. “What did they say this time?”

Noriko sighs heavily. “How do you always know?”

“I’m your father, it’s my job,” I reply sternly. “Now tell me.”

She looks down at her lap. “They said you were the one who murdered Mom and that I’m probably not even yours because my mom was a whore.”

I can feel my temper rise with each word that comes out of her mouth and I am about ready to murder someone when Sayu walks in, a small box of cookies in her hands.

"Hi Nori," she says brightly before she sees me. "Oh, hi Light. I hope you don't mind; I picked some of these up from the bakery down the street to help make Noriko feel better." She offers up the box.

"I thought you were giving Matsuda his lunch," I say, looking at my sister and daughter, feeling that one of them is lying and it is not the one with cookies. "Noriko, why did you lie?"

Noriko blushes a dark red. “I didn’t want you to say no to cookies.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “I probably wouldn’t have said no if you had just told me. Nori, don’t lie, I’ve told you that before. I will always know when you’re lying because the truth always comes out somehow.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” says Noriko, sniffling slightly.

Sayu glares at me. "Light, she's had a terrible day."

"So I heard," I say as I get off my desk and go over to my chair. I pick Noriko up, and I sit down, putting her on my lap. "Just because she had a bad day doesn't mean I'm going to stop acting like her father."

Noriko launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and I hold her close. “I know you’re my dad! I don’t care what the kids at school say!”

I hold her close and kiss the top of her head. “It’s okay, Noriko. I’m here.”

Sayu comes over to my desk and puts the cookies on it. "This is getting out of hand. Rem said yesterday they left her alone, but I guess it was just to get better ammunition." She looks mournfully at her niece. "If this is what the kids are saying, I can only imagine what they're parents must say."

"I have a good idea," I say coldly as I hold Noriko as she cries. I wish she were younger and could not understand so much if she did not then her poor little heart would still be unblemished. "Maybe we should switch schools again."

“No!” declares Noriko loudly in my ear. “Then that means they win! I can’t leave school, Daddy, I don’t want them to win.”

I pull her away, more for the sake of my hearing than anything else and I wipe away her tears. “Sweetheart, you’ve spent more days crying than you have laughing or making friends.”

"I don't need friends," she says sternly. "I have Aunt Rem, Uncle Ryuk, Aunt Sayu, and Uncle Touta. I don't need anyone else."

I smile slightly. “What about me? I’m not your friend?”

“You’re my daddy, you can’t be my friend,” she states very matter of factly.

"Well, not yet," I say slightly wistfully. "Maybe we should keep you out of school for a couple of days until those kids digest the soap their mothers will surely give them today."

Noriko smiles wickedly at the thought of her tormentors being punished, and I am not sure if I should feel uneasy about that or not. "And if not, I'll have Grandpa arrest them!"

Sayu lets out a loud laugh. "There is no doubt who your father is, Noriko; you are just like him."

“I didn’t say anything like that,” I protest but Sayu just dissolves into a fit of giggles.

"Yes, you did! When that kid, Charles what's his name took your bike in the fifth grade," says Sayu happily, as if pleased to remember a time when I was made to look bad. "You had Dad drive you over to his house in the police car, and you told him that you were here to arrest him unless he gave you back the bike."

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” says Ryuk as he enters the room, his hat already off and his dark hair sticking almost straight up. He smiles when he sees Noriko. “Hey kiddo, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” replies Noriko, a little irritated, probably because Ryuk interrupted Sayu’s story. “Aunt Sayu, did he give the bike back?”

"Yes he did," continues Sayu, smiling wickedly. Oh yes, there is no doubt that Noriko belongs to our family. "He was so scared of being arrested by our dad that he never bothered Light again, and he stopped being a bully altogether because Light listed off all of his infractions and said it was enough to lock him up until he was out of high school. Light was the neighborhood hero."

Ryuk cackles. “You never messed around even way back then, did you Light-o?”

“Not in the slightest,” I reply with a shrug. “Anyway, what did you find out from Mrs. Ciresi?”

"Opal wasn't happy to see me, that's for sure," huffs Ryuk as he sits at his desk, his feet on top of it; given what he went through for this case, I do not reprimand him. "Still she answered my questions, her mother-in-law hung around the whole time, and Cesare popped in once to make sure I wasn't doing anything unsavory to her." He makes a face. "That woman smelled like smoke and gin. If she's expecting, it'll come out with a taste for that stuff, that's for sure. Anyway, I asked her about her timeline again, she said she was out running errands with her son and then came home at four, Paul had just gotten home, and she went upstairs to change—"

"That's not right," I say suddenly, my eyes narrowing slightly. "She said Paul wasn't home when she got back from running errands, that he was with his mistress and that she was running errands until about four-thirty and that Paul didn't get home until after five. Miss Taylor said she was with him at that time, eating an early dinner."

“Looks like she lied,” says Noriko sternly.

“It certainly does,” I say as I go over the timelines. “Ryuk, what time does the evening news start?”

“Five-fifteen,” says Noriko quickly before Ryuk even has a chance. “Although yesterday it started a little later, about five-twenty.”

I smile widely. “And Miss Taylor said Paul stayed to listen to the news before leaving. That means he might not have been home until at least six.”

“And Touta said last night the police weren’t called until almost seven,” says Sayu, putting the pieces together. “Light, that means . . .”

“She probably killed him,” I finish with a slight chuckle. “Do you know if a gun was recovered at the scene?”

Sayu nods. "Touta mentioned a shotgun was found in the trash can out back. It smelled like it had been fired recently and the bullets match the shells found at the scene."

I shake my head. “That woman did it and tried to pin it on some mysterious assassin. Well, I believe I have enough evidence to call Dad and have him arrest Opal Ciresi.”

“Cesare is going to have a field day,” sighs Ryuk, shaking his head slightly.

I suddenly remember something vital. “Ryuk, do you know anyone in the Ciresi circle named Louisa Bruno?”

Ryuk nods. “She’s the maid Paulie hired for Opal . . . why do you ask?”

"Because that's Miss Taylor's nanny," I say, and I remember the dark-haired woman from the night before, the one who came in after Paul was dead. It then strikes me that Beatrix Taylor said the nanny left after she retired early last night, around six-thirty.

The maid did not get back until almost eight, maybe a little later. Beatrix lives about a half hour away from Opal, based on the address she gave me; Paul left twenty minutes into the hour-long news special on the radio, meaning he left at about five-forty and had a thirty-minute drive back to his house. He arrived home at approximately six-ten and proceeded to change for the party that started at seven. He was then shot and died, and the police were called at seven, which is when the maid should have been there, but she did not arrive until closer to eight.

"Oh god," I say, and everyone looks at me. "I think Beatrix Taylor and Opal Ciresi killed Paul last night."

Ryuk goes ghost white. “What are you talking about, Light?”

"The maid," I say as it all begins to make sense. "Beatrix said she left around six-thirty, but she didn't get back until almost eight. Dad and I watched her come in."

“But how does that prove Trixie killed him, too?” asks Ryuk, sounding nervous. “All that proves is that the maid took a long detour.”

I try to think of some way to prove that there is a connection between the two women besides the maid, who could have very well been taking a long time to get home, maybe stopping to get maternity supplies for Opal Ciresi. _“I would bet my diamond ring . . .”_

“The ring!” I exclaim. “Miss Taylor was wearing a huge diamond ring that looked exactly like Opal Ciresi’s ring.”

Ryuk looks horrified, but at least he is calm. "Opal wasn't wearing her ring when I spoke to her, and she always wore that thing! It was obnoxious and cost Cesare a fortune!"

“She must have used it as payment,” says Sayu excitedly. “Light, you did it!”

I want to agree with her, but I have only come up with a working theory. “I haven’t proven anything yet, but I have an idea of how I can. Sayu, call Dad and tell him to bring in Opal Ciresi and Beatrix Taylor, have him tell them it’s to identify Paul Ciresi’s body for the funeral home but make sure they arrive in separate cars and do not see each other until they are in the morgue. Ryuk, call Cesare and tell him not to interfere in this plan, that his son’s killer is about to be exposed. I’m going to head over to the morgue.”

“I want to come,” says Noriko eagerly and I shake my head. “Why not?”

"You're too young," I reply resolutely. "The morgue is no place for an eight-year-old."

Noriko crosses her arms and pouts slightly. “I want to see you catch the bad guys.”

"Maybe when you're older," I say with a slight sigh as I take her off my lap and put her feet on the floor. "Now stay here with your aunt, and I'll be back in an hour or so."

“Fine, but I want a sundae to celebrate,” she says with a nod of her head. “And with extra peanuts and hot fudge.”

I nod as I hurry for my jacket and hat. “Fine, but only if I’m right about this.”

“Deal,” she says before hopping into my seat, looking very pleased with herself as she reaches for a cookie.

Ryuk and Sayu, both in the middle of dialing on two separate phones in the office, look at me with wide mocking grins and I roll my eyes.

“You try dealing with a master negotiator,” I say before leaving the office.

* * *

 

I arrive at the morgue twenty minutes later, and I see my father pacing outside, a sign that he is not happy with this plan I devised. When he sees me, he waves me over, and I quickly obeyed, wanting to have him on my side for this. He puts his arm around my shoulders and holds me close, our backs facing the doors and busy street.

“Light, what’s going on?” he asks in a hushed voice. “Sayu didn’t say much other than to bring the two women to the morgue to identify the body.”

“Don’t worry, Dad,” I say confidently. “I have this completely under control and I know I’m right in suspecting both of them.”

Soichiro wipes his brow. “I hope so, Light, otherwise we’re going to have a fight on our hands.”

I pat my father’s shoulder and then disentangle from him before heading inside. I smile at the receptionist as I go through the main door where Matsuda and Ukita are already waiting.

“Bring them in,” I say, slightly breathless.

The two detectives nod and turn to the doors beside them, each one opens one, and the two women come in. Opal is wearing a tight skirt and top, her hair done in a loose braid and Beatrix is wearing her costume from earlier, one is wearing a large diamond ring, and the other is not. When they see each other across the room, they are silent, and a look of surprise drifts over their faces before they decide to remain calm.

“Detective Asahi,” says Opal, a cigarette between her fingers, “what’s goin’ on here? I thought I is the one identifyin’ Paul’s body?”

“And you are,” I say calmly. “And so is Miss Taylor.”

"I'm surprised you'd have the mistress do it," she says, slightly annoyed but I just smile.

"And I'm surprised you can't keep your story straight for twenty-four hours," I say, and she looks thunderstruck before composing herself. "You told me that you had no idea who your husband's mistress was."

"No I didn't!" she shouts, and Matsuda shakes his head, he had been in the room with me when she said that. Panic rises in her tone. "Look, I didn't say nothing about who she is because it would look bad for me if people found out he'd been screwin' around since we was married."

“And you told me it had been going on for months, not years,” I continue and I watch as her expression becomes slightly more desperate. “Surely you, a woman who seems to forget very little about her husband and his misdeeds, would be able to tell us exactly when the affair started even if it is just a vague answer of how many years? You must’ve known as well who your husband was spending his evenings with.”

Opal begins to pant. “I-I well, I never met her!”

"Then how did she get your ring?" I ask calmly, but excitement is building up in me when I see them both look scared.

“Wh-What are you talking about?” asks Opal, trying to play off what I said.

I point at Beatrix's right hand, where the large jewel is gleaming for all to see. "That is your ring, isn't it? The one you've never taken off since you got it. Funny how it ended up on your husband's mistress' hand."

“You idiot, why is you wearing that now?!” Opal demands, glaring at Beatrix. “I told you to wait! Stupid slut, too eager as always.”

“And I told you to give it to me before today!” shouts Beatrix only to clap a hand over her mouth and go an interesting scarlet color.

Opal snickers. “Now you’ve done it, whore.”

“Would either of you like to explain?” I ask, leaning against a nearby workbench.

Beatrix, still slightly red in the face, nods. “It was all her idea, Detective! She wanted to kill Paul and convinced me to join in.”

“No way!” shouts Opal. “This was your stupid idea. You was the one who shot him!”

“You agreed!” argues Beatrix, sounding frantic and she turns to me, looking desperate. “Please don’t arrest me, yes I shot him but it was a good cause, he’s a dangerous man!”

"That may be so, but that's not for you to determine," I say with a shrug. "And that's not why you killed him. You knew he was going to divorce Opal, he always spoke about marriage, and you didn't want to hear it. You knew if he did, he'd propose to you and you couldn't say no to a Mafia don's son, even if it was a long engagement. You wanted to get out of it, so you took the easy way out." I look over at Opal. "And you, you were tired of him cheating, of him choosing Beatrix and his daughter over you and his son. You wanted him out of the picture so you could move on without the stain of being a divorcée; a wealthy widow looks much better to the public." I walk over to the gurney between them and look at both women carefully. "You both knew about each other, so you decided to meet finally. It was then you hatched your plan to kill Paul; using the diamond ring as payment to Beatrix for pulling the trigger."

Beatrix sniffles. “Fine, we killed him. We were just so sick of him ruining our lives!”

“Speak for yourself, my life was perfect ‘cept for you,” scoffs Opal smugly as she takes a drag of her cigarette. “I shoulda given you somethin’ else, bitch, somethin’ you couldn’t a wore for the whole damn world to see.”

“How are you so calm?” demands Beatrix who sounds almost frantic. “We’re going to jail!”

“You might, but I won’t,” says Opal confidently, rubbing her belly. “Why the hell do ya think I wanted to do this now?”

Beatrix looks ready to murder her co-conspirator, but before she gets the chance, Matsuda quietly places handcuffs on her wrists. The girl, barely an adult, bursts into tears as Ukita leads her out of the room. Ukita is about to do the same with Opal when I stop him, one final question on my mind.

“What did the maid have to do with this?” I ask, recalling the mismatched timeline Beatrix had given me earlier.

Opal takes another drag of her cigarette. "Her? Oh, she had nothin' to do with it, she just stayed to watch Paulie's brat while Miss Taylor came and shot him. She came back after Miss Taylor got home."

"Thank you," I say and motion for Ukita to handcuff her. I watch with grim satisfaction as she leaves the room. Moments later, my father comes rushing in, looking as if he ran a marathon.

“Well, were you right?” he asks, sounding desperate. “Which one of them did it?”

"They both did," I reply with a smug grin. "They both planned the death of Paul Ciresi, but Beatrix is the one who killed him. Mrs. Ciresi gave her the engagement ring from Paul as payment."

“How did you know?” asks Soichiro, sounding a little irritated.

I shrug. "Their timelines didn't match up with what happened, and Mrs. Ciresi couldn't keep her story straight when Ryuk questioned her earlier. That's what tipped me off. Then when I found out that the Ciresis' maid is also Miss Taylor's nanny, I was able to find the hole; the maid didn't get back until after seven, but Miss Taylor said she left earlier than that."

Soichiro seems impressed. “How did you know they were working together?”

“The ring,” I say. “Apparently Miss Taylor couldn’t resist wearing it.”

My father sighs heavily before patting my back. "Good work, Detective. You solved a murder in less than twenty-four hours; I believe that's a precinct record."

I smile uneasily. "Or it would be if I was still in the precinct."

"You still could be," says Soichiro softly. "Please Light; it's been six years and—"

"And they all still remember me," I finish curtly. "Frankly, I'm not keen on joining back up with a police force full of corrupt men, who would all be too happy to hand me over to the Mafia at first chance. Nor am I eager to walk the streets constantly looking over my shoulder, I do enough of that already, but as a cop, it would be worse. I'm sorry, but I can't come back."

“I understand,” says Soichiro and we begin to head out of the morgue. “Sayu called earlier and asked if we had hired anyone new. Why do you ask?”

"I thought I saw someone new at the crime scene last night," I reply as we step outside, a brisk breeze blows through, and we both grip our jackets tighter. "I left before she could tell me."

“No, I haven’t hired anyone new,” he says, sounding tired. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go process our two murderesses. Good day, Detective Asahi.”

"And to you, Chief Yagami," I say politely before heading over to my car. As I get in, I have a distinct feeling that someone is watching me and when I look over my shoulder, I see through the mass on the sidewalk the man from before standing across the street. Our eyes meet, and he smiles thinly before the crowd of people swallows him whole. I almost jump out of the car and chase him, but I know that I might not be able to find him, so I stay put and back away from the morgue go to my office.


	4. Chapter 4

“Pile on the peanuts and hot fudge, Sal, we’re celebrating!” says Noriko as she spins on the red leather seat of her barstool.

Sal Malone, the drugstore owner just down the street from my work, chuckles happily as he watches Noriko. “Yes ma’am,” says Sal as he gathers up the supplies for Noriko’s usual sundae. “And what are you celebrating today?” He looks at me and winks; I roll my eyes and smirk. The old man always wants to set me up with someone, and he probably thinks I finally found myself a girl.

My daughter manages to come to a stop before she answers. “Daddy solved a case!” she announces proudly, looking up at me with wide and adoring eyes. “He even stopped a gang war from happening.”

Sal looks at me over his shoulder and seems impressed. “Well now, that is worth celebrating.” He turns back around with two etched glass dishes and sets the small one in front of me and the slightly larger one in front of Noriko. After almost four years of this, he knows exactly what we want without asking.

“Do you have anything new?” asks Noriko as she observes Sal scoop out the vanilla ice cream for my dessert. She leans over the counter to try and see into the tubs he keeps beneath.

“I do,” says Sal and he pauses for a moment to scoop up his latest flavor. When he comes back up, a pale green ball of ice cream sits on his scoop, and I can see the pieces of chocolate flecked throughout. “It’s called mint chocolate chip. Something new from the distributor they’re trying out. What do you think?”

Noriko and I look at each other and nod. That sounds like a flavor we will both enjoy.

“A scoop for the little lady and me,” I say with a smile, nudging Noriko with my elbow and she giggles.

“Good choice,” says Sal as he puts the scoop in my glass. “How’s school going, sweetie pie?”

My daughter scowls. “You know better than to ask me that before I get my sundae, Sal.”

“Noriko,” I say reproachfully, and she looks down at her lap, adequately reprimanded for her outburst.

“I’m sorry, Sal,” she says softly, and the old man merely chuckles.

“No harm done, sugar,” says Sal as he pours hot fudge on my sundae before doing the same in Noriko’s empty glass. He then puts a scoop of mint chocolate chip in hers along with a scoop of dark chocolate. He puts caramel on that scoop before placing a scoop of strawberry on top with a drizzle of cherry sauce and more hot fudge followed by a dollop of homemade whipped cream and peanuts galore.

“Here you go,” says Sal proudly as he pushes the glass of sugar and a spoon in front of my eight-year-old.

Noriko’s eyes sparkle as she takes in the tower of sweet and I refrain from groaning. The one thing she did not inherit from her mother or me is her enormous sweet tooth; I blame it on Sayu, as she is the only person I know who loves sugar almost as much as Noriko.

“What do you say?” I ask just as she is about to dive into her treat.

“Thank you, Sal,” she says politely, almost innocently before going straight for the largest bite she can manage. Sal and I watch in amazement as the whole spoon goes into her mouth and comes out clean; it is a wonder she has never choked.

“What about you, Light?” asks Sal when he is sure Noriko is going to be all right. “Extra peanuts and hot fudge for you as well?”

I nod as I turn my attention back to my sundae, which looks meager, and unimpressive compared to Noriko’s, but I do not desire the sugar rush. “Load me up; I’m not going to let Nori have all the fun.”

Noriko smiles at me around her spoon, and I return it quickly. These are moments with my daughter that I treasure.

“Sounds good,” says Sal happily as he goes back to work on the finishing touches of my dessert.

The bell on the door rings and I look over my shoulder to see who came in when my heart jumps into my throat. ‘It’s him! The man from the morgue,’ I realize, barely maintaining my composure as he comes up to the soda bar and takes the seat beside Noriko.

“Hello,” he says when he sees me looking at him, his voice is cool and a little low, almost monotonous in tone. His gaze goes to Noriko, who is already staring at him, and he gives her a thin smile like he is unused to giving one. “And hello to you, miss.”

“Hi,” says Noriko, not sounding the least bit shy and I frown. I have repeatedly told her not to be friendly with strangers. “Are you here for a sundae, too?”

The man nods and then his gaze drifts to the sundae in front of Noriko. “If I weren't, I would certainly consider one after seeing this creation.” He gestures at the glass still mostly full of ice cream and sauce. “Are you sharing with your father?”

Noriko shakes her head. “No, this is mine. Daddy’s is smaller and not as pretty.”

“Hey, my sundae is just fine,” I argue before I can stop myself and Noriko and the man snicker as my sundae is placed in front of me with a wink from Sal. I look at it and realize that he did something different; it seems like he piped it and added chocolate shavings along with the peanuts.

“Hey, I want that too!” says Noriko when she realizes the differences.

Sal shakes his head, a teasing light in his blue eyes. “Now, sugar, yours is pretty enough without all that fluff.” He then turns to the man. “What can I get you, sir?”

The man looks at my sundae and then at Noriko’s. “What the lady is having if you please.”

Noriko beams and I become tense. Whoever this man is, he is certainly trying to make a friend out of my daughter, and I do not appreciate it, especially since we do not even know his name or background. For all I know, this is a new tactic of Cesare’s to keep an eye on me.

“Alright,” says Sal as he reaches for a glass. “I haven’t seen you before sir, you here on business?”

Given the man’s attire, Sal may not be far off. He is wearing the same black trench coat and black suit I saw him in earlier today. His hat is still on his head, which is hardly acceptable. After a few moments, he seems to realize this and takes it off. The second he does, I can understand why he wanted to keep it on for as long as possible. His inky black hair is even wilder than Ryuk’s, and there seems to be little attempt at fixing it. Noriko and I both unabashedly stare at the unruly mess.

“Wow,” says Noriko slowly. It is enough to shake me out of my near hypnotic state, and I put my hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I say once I have Noriko’s mouth under control. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

The man looks at me and then at Noriko, his eyes on my hand, and something in his gaze makes my cheeks feel warmer than usual. I retract my hand, hoping to remedy my sudden heat wave but I find myself getting even warmer as his gaze follows my motion. I determinedly sit with my face towards the mirror over the bar. I can see everything going on without really looking and right now, I prefer the subtlety, even if Sal is watching me curiously as he prepares the man’s sundae.

“I like your hair,” says Noriko as she gathers another bite. “It’s like my Uncle Ryuk’s but prettier.”

The man smiles again, and this seems slightly more genuine. “Thank you; I like your hair, young lady. Beautiful curls.”

Noriko smiles and moves her head, so the curls Rem put in her hair this morning bounce. “Thank you! My Aunt Rem did it. She says my hair is perfect for curls and braids.” Suddenly Noriko is quiet, and I wonder what came over her when I see her put her spoon down and extend her hand to the man. “I’m Noriko Yagami, pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”

Part of me wants to be proud that she introduced herself so well and part of me wants to reprimand her for waiting so long and for using her real name. I have told her repeatedly to call herself Noriko Asahi when in public and Noriko Yagami with family and friends.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Noriko Yagami,” says the man as he takes her hand and shakes it. “I’m Rue Ryuzaki, a private investigator.”

Noriko’s eyes light up, and I tense up again.

“You’re like my daddy!” she says excitedly, spinning in her chair to look at me. “My daddy’s a PI too, in fact, he just solved a case, and that’s why we’re here! We’re having sundaes to celebrate.”

“Noriko, you don’t have to tell Mr. Ryuzaki everything,” I say kindly, but I make sure my expression displays my annoyance, and I know she understands when she shrinks into herself slightly. I love my daughter, and I want her to grow up and not be like every other girl, but there are times when she pushes how liberal I can be with her, and this is one of those times.

“Oh, I already knew that,” says Ryuzaki with a smirk. “In fact, I’ve been following your career closely for some time, Detective Yagami. I came in here hoping to speak with you. I tried to make an appointment at your office, but no one was there.”

I sit back slightly and eye Ryuzaki. Sayu would have told me if someone called for an appointment. That means either he is lying, or he did try, and it was at a time when Sayu was out, like early this morning when she was helping with a delivery. “I’m sorry about that,” I say, carefully selecting my words. “After my daughter and I finish our treat, I’ll be heading back to my office. Perhaps we could speak then?”

“That would be excellent,” says Ryuzaki as he fishes something out of his jacket pocket. He puts it on the table, and I almost push it back when I see the wadded up $10 bill. “Sir, I’ll be paying for the sundaes.”

Sal turns around and looks at the money and Ryuzaki before looking at me, apparently confused as to what transpired. Honestly, I am as well; I do not know how we went from strangers to this level of friendly in the span of a few sentences about ice cream and hairstyles. Noriko glances at the money and reaches into her small pink pocketbook Rem gave her for her last birthday, she pulls out a handful of coins and sets them on the counter next to Ryuzaki’s bill.

“And I’ll pay for his,” says Noriko with a firm nod, sending her curls bouncing again.

My jaw nearly hits the counter. Noriko never pays for a treat, not that she ever has a reason to, but I never thought I would see the day when she treated someone else for a change.

“Thank you, Noriko,” Ryuzaki says graciously, and he sounds sincere. “Truly you are a rare type of young lady.”

Noriko blushes, and I do a double take. No one and nothing makes Noriko blush, even when my father’s detectives pay her compliments she accepts them without a hint of pink in her cheeks. Who the hell is this man?

“Now don’t go falling in love with the man, Noriko,” says Sal playfully as he sets down the sundae and takes the money. “I think he’s a little too old for you.”

Noriko thinks on this for a moment and turns to the man as he spoons a bite of strawberry ice cream. I find the way he holds the spoon with his index and thumb very strange. “How old are you?” she asks and I almost fall off my stool. Noriko is never this forward with someone, in fact, she is as indifferent to people as I am most days.

“Thirty-four,” replies Ryuzaki without even batting an eye. “How old are you?”

“Eight,” replies Noriko eagerly. “My birthday is in August. When’s yours?”

“On Halloween,” says Ryuzaki and Noriko’s eyes become like saucers. “Yes, an enviable day to be born.”

Noriko spins around to me, a frown on her pink lips. “Why wasn’t I born on Halloween? Then Mr. Ryuzaki and I would be the same!”

Words fail me for once, and I merely gape at her. I hear Sal snickering beside me. The old man is lucky I like him; otherwise, Noriko and I would be leaving right this second. I glance at Ryuzaki and find him incredibly interested in his sundae rather than the conversation he started, and I narrow my eyes at him. Logically he is not to blame for my current predicament, but even still, he is part of the situation.

“You wanted your birthday to be in August, Nori,” I say slowly, reaching for words as I attempt to explain why without going into too much detail. The birds and the bees is not a conversation I want to have with my eight-year-old, especially in public. “You thought it was a good time to have a birthday.”

Noriko looks skeptical for a moment, but slowly her expression fades into one of forced acceptance. She cannot dispute my claim nor can she call me out for being misleading, so it is enough for her to accept my explanation and go back to her ice cream and conversation with Ryuzaki.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

 

“I apologize for any awkward circumstances I may have had a hand in putting you in,” says Ryuzaki as he sits down in the chair across from my desk. I notice that he hesitates for a moment, one foot raising just a fraction off the floor before he stubbornly puts it on the ground with a muffled thump. I pretend not to notice.

“It’s alright,” I say pleasantly enough. If I am going to get any answers out of him, I need to play my cards right and being rude will not get me anywhere. “My daughter wasn’t exactly making it easy for you. I apologize for her forward approach. I indulge her more often than I should, and she sometimes forgets that not everyone is as accepting of her candor.”

Ryuzaki chuckles and waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t apologize, I have three sons myself, and I understand perfectly how . . . inquisitive children can be.”

I laugh slightly. “Is that what they call it? I had no idea. Now, what can I help you with, Detective?”

“I’ll get straight to the point,” says Ryuzaki as he fidgets with his hands somewhat. “Are you familiar with the recent murders in Los Angeles?”

I nod and sit just a little straighter. The case to which he is referring is a hot topic right now. Several individuals some connected to criminal organizations and others not, have ended up being murdered by extremely gruesome means. The most recent victim was found barely alive and flayed open. He died just seconds after police arrived on the scene. I am incredibly glad that I sent Noriko off with Sayu on a couple of errands, she does not need to hear about this case and knowing her, she would get Ryuzaki to tell her about it.

“I am,” I say calmly. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m investigating it,” he says a little quietly. “The local police in Los Angeles are not getting anywhere, so I offered my services.”

“That was very generous of you,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “Most private investigators would not offer to look into a series of murders, especially when a couple of police officers have been horrifically injured by the assailant during the investigation.”

Ryuzaki nods and leans forward, so it looks like he is crouching in his seat. “Most private investigators are not like me. I have never failed to solve a case, Detective, not once. My track record was enough for the police department to give me control of the case, at least privately. In public, they are in charge.”

Something about this conversation unsettles me. Ryuzaki claims to be in charge of a case in California yet here he is in New York, shirking his responsibilities and family, apparently. No, that cannot be the case; Ryuzaki seems to be the type who acts with a purpose and not without calculating the risks involved. That is clear to me given the fact he went out of his way to get my attention and even approached me personally, rather than through the police department. Whatever he is doing, he does not want the local police to know about it. Why would he want to keep his existence a secret? Unless . . . “You believe the murderer is in New York,” I say firmly, and he nods, confirming my suspicions.

“Yes, that is my theory,” he says, glancing at the box of cookies still on my desk from earlier. “The last murder happened a week ago and based on recent events, the murderer killed every three days, so this break was what tipped me off that he was no longer in the area.”

“And you can travel from Los Angeles to New York City in about a week,” I supply, easily following his train of thought. “If you have a decent car, at least.”

“Exactly,” he says, sounding a little intrigued that I came to this conclusion so quickly.

I nearly ask him why he thinks New York is now home to this murderer but I stop myself. Why indeed? I think about what I know of the murders. They happen every three days, as he said, but this week is the exception apparently; so logically he is either dead or no longer in the area. If the murders ultimately stop, he is gone, but if they start again, then his new location will be confirmed. I glance at the calendar on the wall. The murder happened one week ago yesterday, the same day as Paul Ciresi’s murder by his wife and mistress.

“You thought Paul Ciresi’s murder was because of the LA murderer,” I say suddenly, surprising even myself.

Ryuzaki nods again. “Yes, I saw the scene and decided to investigate. When I heard the man inside was the son of a Mafia boss, I thought he was the next victim. Then I heard it looked like an assassination attempt and I knew he was not.”

“I see,” I say as I go over the events of yesterday night. “Do you think he did murder someone last night? Given his compulsive pattern, I find it hard to believe he just stopped.”

“Absolutely,” says Ryuzaki firmly. “I believe he did kill someone, but we just did not hear about it because of the Mafia murder. That seemed to take priority.”

I snort. “Of course it did. Demegawa loves the Mafia, and all he reports on is the Families. We almost didn’t hear about the results of the last because it coincided with the day Peter Ciresi was released from prison.”

Ryuzaki looks less than thrilled to hear this. “That man should be fired.”

“Oh, I agree,” I say with a laugh, glad to find someone besides my family who agrees with me. “And my friend Mikami has been trying for years to make it so.”

“Are you referring to the prosecutor?” he asks, and I nod. “Well, I didn’t realize you were so well connected, Detective. Mikami is known even in my circles and is highly regarded.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to know how widespread his acclaim is,” I say courteously. The last time Mikami and I spoke, without our jobs being the catalyst for the conversation, was after . . . after . . . “I’ll let him know the next time I see him.”

“Which I assume will be in court,” says Ryuzaki, sounding confident and unsure at the same time. “Considering you solved your Mafia murder already. Quite the record, Detective, if I do say so myself. Although the fastest I have solved a crime was six hours.”

I stare at him in disbelief. There is only one person in the entire country, or perhaps even the world, with a record like that. Someone no one can prove exists. “You’re not him, are you?” I ask, unable to get the name out.

Ryuzaki looks at me with interest, his grey eyes twinkling merrily in the light. “If you’re referring to L, then I’m afraid I will have to answer, but if you’re not, I guess I won’t.”

“I do mean L,” I say immediately, my curiosity getting the better of my sense.

“I am L,” he says with the faintest of smiles and I feel as if the world is now on its axis. “Does that bother you?”

It takes me a moment to overcome my shock, but I shake my head. “Hardly, if anything it makes me more inclined to speak with you,” I say honestly. I cannot say for sure that this man is indeed L, but if he is affiliated in some way, I do not want to be seen as rude or suspicious. Working with L is something no one has done, at least not here, and to be the first would give me an honor high above the police.

Ryuzaki smirks. “That’s good news then because I would hate to end this conversation prematurely. Getting back to your theory that my killer has likely struck again and the murder was lost in the sea of useless news stories. Do you know of a way we could discover if this is true?”

I immediately nod and reach for my desk drawer. I know exactly how we can find out. I reach in and pull out this morning’s paper. There is one credible reporter in the entire city, and she happens to be an old friend of mine: Kiyomi Takada. The only female reporter in the whole state, a title she carries well and a little too openly. Still, I cannot dislike her too much; after all, it is because of her that Noriko was able to transfer schools this year. It did help that her sister happens to work there as well.

I flip to the middle and scan for Kiyomi’s section. In the middle of pointless interviews and quotes from Mafia workers, I find it, and I grin as I put the paper down between Ryuzaki and I. Smoothing out the pages, our eyes go to the slightly bold title: Businessman Dismembered in Alley.

“Well now, it seems you were right,” says Ryuzaki as he takes the newspaper and spins it so he can read it properly. I watch closely as his eyes go over each word. “Yes, this is his work. The man he murdered or should I say, brutalized, was found with his arms removed at the elbow, his legs removed at the knee, and his head removed at the tongue.”

“Excuse me, did you say at the tongue?” I ask, a sickening image coming to mind.

Ryuzaki looks up at me and nods. “I did. He removed all of the head above the tongue.”

“This murderer sounds like an animal,” I all but snarl. “And now he’s here. Do you have any theories as to how he chooses his victims? From what I’ve read, they seem random.”

“They are random, and that’s what has me concerned,” says Ryuzaki, his tone taking on the edge of seriousness. “It would appear that anyone who crosses his path is fair game, but I do know that the means by which he kills are meant to garner attention. He wants people to know he exists.” He folds the paper and points at the article. “He will not be happy that his latest kill has been relegated to a small article by a female reporter and if your murder has taught him anything, it is that the only way to get noticed is to attack the Mafia.”

“Oh God,” I moan, falling back into my chair. “If he starts targeting them and succeeding in killing any member, he might start a gang war, or worse they’ll work together to stop him. That could lead to unprecedented violence and bloodshed.”

Ryuzaki nods solemnly. “Which is why I need your help. The police here are as incompetent as the ones in Los Angeles; your latest murder made that clear to me. And from what I’ve heard you’re the reason the New York City Police Department looked even halfway effective.” His eyes bore into me, and for a moment, I believe he may be able to read my very soul. “I have to say; I’m glad you became a private investigator, it makes it easier to discreetly ask for your help.”

I cock an eyebrow. “You don’t want the police to know about the case?”

He shakes his head. “No, because if they did, and if they knew it was at their doorstep, they would get their big fingers in my pie and I do not tolerate other people coming in and destroying my work. No, this has to be done quietly and just the two of us, with some help from associates of mine.”

This all seems a little too good to be true. I solve a murder, and possibly the greatest detective in the world just happens to find me at the crime scene, morgue, and the pharmacy? No, too many coincidences. “Why should I help you?” I ask airily although my tone suggests skepticism. “And I mean besides helping the greater community. Why shouldn’t I just go to the police with this information and tell them about the LA killer?”

There is a beat between my question and Ryuzaki’s smirk. It is almost like he expected me to be unconvinced and to ask that exact query. I almost punch him for looking so damn smug.

What he says next makes me want to punch him. “Because I know who killed your wife.”


	5. Chapter 5

“He knows who killed Misa?!” exclaims Ryuk around the cigarette in his mouth.

We are standing on the balcony outside of my apartment after dinner; I just now found the time and privacy to tell Ryuk everything that happened after he left for one of his meetings with Cesare. He is taking it about as well as I expected.

I nod and scowl as I waft the smoke away from my face. “Keep it down, would you? I don’t want Nori to hear.”

Ryuk glances to his left, looking through the glass in the door to make sure that Noriko is still blissfully talking to Rem. “Sorry.”

I do the same. “It’s fine; I just don’t want to answer those questions right now.” I then look back at Ryuk and find him staring at the ground, shuffling his feet. “What is it?”

“Does that mean you were wrong?” asks Ryuk quietly likely hoping I will not hear him.

“Wrong about what?” I ask slowly. It is not often I use that word in the context of myself.

“Wrong about who did it,” says Ryuk after some hesitation.

“No,” I say immediately even though I can hear the doubt in my voice. “I might have been wrong about who pulled the trigger, but I’m fairly certain they are connected to the Mafia.” This is the closest I will ever come to admitting that I was wrong. “Look, the Mafia is a huge organization with dozens of people involved that we don’t have documented. It’s possible that I missed the real killer, I’ll accept that, but I don’t think I was wrong in going after the Mafia in general. They’re connected to her death.”

Ryuk does not seem sure as I speak but he allows me to explain my thinking in peace. “Light,” he says when he is sure I am finished. “What if you’re wrong about that though? What if you went after the Families baselessly?”

I do not like where this is going, but I will humor him for the time being. “And what if I am? That doesn’t mean I was wrong to go after them as a whole. They’re criminals, Ryuk, and they need to be brought to justice.”

“Do you still see me as a criminal?” he asks, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“No,” I say sincerely. “You’ve repented and are serving out your penance. You’re no longer a criminal in my eyes, even if you were in the past. You’re my friend, Ryuk, and one of a small pool of people I can trust with my life.”

The tension in his shoulders drops considerably, but he still seems guarded. “You know if you were wrong about the Family’s involvement in Misa’s death, you’ll never be able to lead a quiet life. They’ll always be watching you and giving you a hard time.”

I snort. “How exactly is that different from now?”

Ryuk lets out a raspy laugh. “Right, I forgot about that. Yeah, I guess there wouldn’t be much of a difference.” His eyes gain a distant look to them. “You know Light; you’d probably have to move. If it got out that you were wrong about the Mafia being involved with Misa’s death, then they would be seen in a sympathetic light, and you’d look like an idiot, and they would never let you forget that.”

“I know,” I say quietly. I already thought about it on the way home from work. “And if I were proven right, then Nori and I would be in more danger than we are now.” I rub the back of my neck. “I’m glad that my dad didn’t get involved in my crusade against the Families otherwise he and Sayu and Mom would all be targeted.”

“Right,” says Ryuk as he takes another drag of his dwindling cigarette. “And Cesare isn’t dumb enough to go after the Chief of Police; he’s a fool, not an imbecile. You’re just his target because of how close you came to taking him down.”

I smirk, recalling my war against the Mafia. “I proved he wasn’t invincible, that’s all. Mikami more than proved that by putting away sixty of his lackeys in one trial.”

“Unconventional as hell but damned if it didn’t work,” agrees Ryuk as he puts his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe. “I never saw Cesare scared until you and Mikami did that.”

“Everyone’s a god until the first time they bleed,” I say with a wide smile. “I’m honestly surprised Cesare didn’t have me killed.”

Ryuk shrugs. “I guess he thought if he killed you, then the rest of the police would come after him and be out for blood. You’re a threat to him either way but at least alive he can keep an eye on you.”

“As if I could do something to him dead,” I say with a chuckle.

“Knowing you, you probably could,” says Ryuk smirking. “Now, enough about this crap. Tell me about this Rue Ryuzaki fellow that showed up after I left. It sounds like he’s got you spooked if you’re seriously considering his offer.”

“I’m not scared, just cautious,” I explain with a sigh. “If he’s right, and I’m sure he is based on the given evidence, then the LA Killer is here in New York and will start going after Mafia members just to get his name in the headlines. He’s already killed someone, but their death didn’t make the news because of Paul.”

Ryuk shakes his head as he tosses the cigarette butt into the street below. “If he does that, there’ll be problems.”

“I know,” I say, remembering my conversation with Ryuzaki. “He and I both agree that if this killer were to succeed in murdering a member of the Mafia, things could escalate into either war or they start working together to stop him.”

“Depending on the deaths, I can see it going either way,” says Ryuk thoughtfully as he looks at the cars on the road and people on the sidewalks. “Could you imagine a war between all of the Families? There would be so many people dead, so much violence.” He then looks at me. “Why are you telling me this? I thought you wanted the Families eradicated?”

I let out a sigh. He is not wrong, I do want organized crime put to death, but this is not the way to do it. “I told you so you could warn Cesare. I know he trusts you and wouldn’t doubt you on something this serious. It’s a long shot right now, but Ryuzaki and I are confident this is the turn the killer will take in the next couple of days. If I’m wrong or right, it doesn’t affect Cesare negatively; he’ll just be in the know about a serial killer.”

“I’m surprised you care,” says Ryuk as our gaze goes back inside and rests on Noriko, who is playing Cat’s Cradle with Rem. “Then again, I guess I shouldn’t be, this affects the city as a whole rather than just a few people.”

“And my family is part of it,” I say as I watch my little girl giggle. I would give anything, even my life, to ensure that she never stops smiling. “Which is why I’m going to accept Ryuzaki’s offer and work with him to stop the killer.”

Ryuk chuckles. “I knew you would. Two mysteries with one stone? You’d be an idiot to decline.”

“You’re right there,” I say, shaking my head. “So, are you going to tell Cesare?”

“Of course,” he says with a shrug. “I’d be out on my ass if I didn’t tell him about a potential Mafia killer. I’ll suggest implementing a partner system; no one goes anywhere alone and if they do, it’s always in sight of several people, even when going home. We did something similar a couple of years ago when some Russians were giving us trouble, worked fine, and hardly anyone got hurt.”

“I remember that,” I say. “You had that fat guy with you all the time, Peter something.”

Ryuk cackles. “Oh him! Damn, I’d forgotten all about him. Yeah, he was a real character, never turned down a meal even if it came from a paper bag. He knew some great jokes.”

“Whatever happened to him?” I ask as we head back inside.

“Retired and moved to Florida with his wife,” replies Ryuk, still laughing. “He’s probably redder than a steamed crab being in that sun.”

Even I cannot hold back and laugh at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” asks Noriko as I close the balcony door. She is in the process of picking out a book from the stack by my chair.

“Nothing, baby,” I say, wiping a tear from my eye. “Your Uncle Ryuk just knows some pretty funny people.”

“I didn’t know gangsters were funny,” says Noriko seriously, looking at Ryuk with a critical eye as he shrinks in on himself and I am a little taken aback myself. Neither one of us told Noriko about Ryuk’s involvement with the Mafia. I look to Rem, who seems just as clueless as the rest of us.

“Who said I was a gangster?” asks Ryuk, sounding like he is being held at gunpoint.

“I’ve heard you talking on the phone to Cesare Ciresi,” replies Noriko sternly. “You tell him about Daddy and me when you think we aren’t paying attention.” Her eyes narrow considerably. “Why are you telling him stuff?”

Ryuk looks helpless, and I can understand why. Never has he been asked such a loaded question, if answered incorrectly or correctly, it will destroy this carefully constructed masquerade we constructed.

“Because he needs to watch us,” I say, diverting her attention from Ryuk.

“You knew?!” exclaims Noriko, looking shocked and I nod. “Why did you keep him around? You always told me people in the mob are bad, but Uncle Ryuk isn’t bad, just funny.”

‘Well, at least she doesn’t hate him,’ I think as I take a seat in my armchair. “Listen, Nori; your uncle needs to watch us because of something I did a long time ago when you were still a baby. It put us both in danger and having him here means we aren’t in danger anymore. It means we’re protected.”

Noriko appears torn between believing me and calling me out. “Fine,” she says, settling for something in the middle. “I’ll trust you, Uncle Ryuk but don’t do anything to hurt my daddy or I’ll hurt you.”

I glance over at Ryuk, who is now four shades paler than usual, and I smirk. It seems challenging the Mafia is something passed by blood.

“Don’t worry,” says Ryuk as he recovers his senses. “I don’t plan on hurting you or your daddy.”

Noriko appears satisfied with that response. “Good, because I would hate to have to hurt you, Uncle Ryuk.”

“Same here, kiddo,” he says, and I am sure I am the only one who heard him. He then puts on a false smile. “Well, I think it’s safe to say we’ve overstayed our welcome for tonight. Rem, we should probably go home.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” says Rem as she stands up, her mere presence casting my apartment into a dismal light. I will never understand how her simply being someplace can make it look poor and dingy. “I will see you tomorrow, Noriko, be good for your father.”

“Yes, Aunt Rem,” says Noriko as she stands and hugs her nanny. “Good night.”

“Good night,” says Rem kindly as she heads for the door. “Ryuk, come along, my love.”

“Yes, dear,” says Ryuk as he follows his wife. “See you tomorrow, Light-o.” He then cautiously looks down at Noriko. “Bye kiddo.”

“Bye Uncle Ryuk,” she says, giving him a kind smile. From promising murder to politely telling her target farewell in a minute flat. My daughter scares me at times.

Ryuk nods and then scurries to catch up with Rem. When I hear the door close, my full attention goes to my daughter, as she calmly gets ready for her nightly story.

“ _You shouldn’t threaten people like that, Noriko,_ ” I say in Japanese. When we are alone, or I want a conversation to remain private, we typically speak in my family’s native tongue. “ _Especially your uncle, you know he wouldn’t do anything to you or me._ ”

“ _I know,_ ” she replies, also in Japanese. “ _And I’m sorry, but I didn’t like him keeping secrets. You always say I need to tell the truth and I want Uncle Ryuk to too. Is that wrong?_ ”

 _‘Why did she have to have my brain and sense of morality?’_ I wonder as I run a hand through my hair. “ _No, but you shouldn’t lecture adults or threaten to hurt them; it’s rude, and I raised you better than that. Besides, you need to be careful who you say that kind of stuff to if the wrong person hears, you or whoever you’re talking to could get in trouble._ ”

Noriko nods. “ _I’m sorry, Daddy._ ”

My harsh expression softens and I open my arms. Noriko rushes into them and throws hers around my neck as I close mine around her. I can never stay angry with her; even when she does something wrong, I find it difficult to be mad after I’ve disciplined her.

“Daddy,” she says, now in English, “what did Mr. Ryuzaki want?”

“He wants me to work on a case with him,” I say as we pull away. “It’s a crucial case, and I don’t think I’ll be able to solve it as fast as I did today.”

“You’ll be great,” says Noriko cheerily, her smile bright. “Remember the burglaries you solved? That took you a while and then you were called a hero!” She hugs me again. “My daddy’s a hero.”

“I only want to be your hero, Nori,” I say as I hug her back.

“You are,” she says adamantly as she pulls away. “Can we sing tonight?”

“Sure,” I say as I stand up and she takes my hand.

“Can you read me a story tonight?” she asks as we head into her room.

“How about you read to me like you did last night?” I suggest, and she enthusiastically nods.

We head into her room and she goes to her dresser, pulling out her favorite pink nightgown before dashing behind the screen Rem bought her for her birthday a couple of years ago. I sit down on her bed and try to get comfortable, a relatively easy task considering her bed feels like a stack of clouds and marshmallows. I open the book she picked out and begin reading it to myself; it is a Sherlock Holmes story and one of my personal favorites.

“Daddy, no reading without me!” says Noriko from behind the screen and I immediately close the book. “I knew it!”

“Guilty as charged,” I say with a laugh. “Hurry up so we can read this together.”

“I’m hurrying,” huffs Noriko and then she emerges from behind the screen. Her curls are still in place, but she is wearing the pink nightgown she picked out earlier and seems eager to get to reading. I pat at the empty spot beside me, and she scrambles into bed, forgetting her dirty clothes in the process. I shrug to myself; I will get them on my way out of her room.

“Let’s sing first,” says Noriko as she buries herself under the blankets and pillows.

“Are you sure?” I ask with a sly grin, and she nods. “English or Japanese?”

“Japanese,” she says, stifling a yawn. “Did Mommy sing to me?”

I hesitate for a moment. Misa never sang to Noriko, not once. “Mommy was too busy at night to sing, so she left that to me,” I say slowly, gauging her reaction. “Is that okay?”

Noriko thinks for a moment and then nods. “Yes, it’s fine. I like you singing to me.”

I breathe a silent sigh of relief. Thank the Lord. “Alright, I guess I should get started, so we can see what Sherlock’s up to this time.”

She nods and then snuggles closer to me. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and kiss her forehead as we burrow down further into the bed.

“ _Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings, little blue pigeon with velvet eyes,_ ” I sing, smiling to myself when I hear her little voice chiming in. “ _Sleep to the singing of father-bird swinging, swinging the nest where her little one lies. Away out yonder, I see a star, silvery star with a tinkling song; to the soft dew falling I hear it calling, calling and tinkling the night along. In through the window a moonbeam comes, little gold moonbeam with misty wings; all silently creeping, it asks; “Is he sleeping, sleeping and dreaming while father sings?”... But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings, little blue pigeon with mournful eyes; am I not singing? —See, I am swinging—Swinging the nest where my darling lies._ ”

“Daddy, am I your little blue pigeon?” she asks, her voice already laced with sleep.

“Yes, you are,” I reply as I bring up the book. “Now, time for our story. Did you already finish the other one?”

She nods. Her head against my heart. “I finished it at school during our quiet reading time.”

“Too bad,” I say with a chuckle. “I wanted to hear how that one ended.”

“I can read it to you later,” she says as she yawns and I begin reading. 

* * *

 

_“I’m supposed to marry him?” asked Misa, disdain evident in her voice. She turned to her parents, who looked appropriately embarrassed over their daughter’s behavior. “I already told you I’m with Hideki. I don’t want an arranged marriage!”_

_“Misa, darling, we think this would be good for you,” said her mother kindly. “Light’s a good man, he has a steady job and can take care of you.”_

_Misa rolled her eyes, and I tried to pretend I was elsewhere. I had a feeling this would happen. When my parents said we were having guests over for dinner, I had no idea it would be an ambush._

_“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not thrilled with the idea either,” I said, trying to sound diplomatic. “But I’m willing to be your husband, Misa if you let me.”_

_“I think you should be thrilled,” she said scornfully. “I’m probably the best woman you’ll ever be with, and if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be with someone like you. I’d rather marry a gangster!”_

_Her parents looked horrified with her declaration, and she seemed triumphant. How could this girl, who was almost a foot shorter than me and probably sixty pounds less, make me feel like I was a worthless piece of trash? Not to mention if we did get married, she might provoke me into hitting her, something I swore all my life I would never do._

_“That’s enough, Misa!” roared her father. “You are going to marry Light Yagami, and that’s the end of it!”_

_She looked at me as if I were the devil and I began to feel just a little bit smug, at least we were both suffering in this._

_“I hate you!” she screamed before fleeing into the bathroom, the door slammed shut._

My eyes shoot open. I nearly fall off the bed, and it takes me a moment to remember exactly where I am. I am in Noriko’s room; I fell asleep after reading her a story. I hear someone breathe beside me and in the darkness, I can just make out Noriko’s sleeping form. At least I did not wake her up; she would have asked questions about why and in my current state, I might have given in and told her exactly what startled me.

It is becoming difficult to keep Misa buried; I see reminders of her everywhere, especially of late. Every time I see Ryuk or Rem or a theatre, I see Misa during the only performance of hers I ever saw. Whenever I see Noriko or the ring on my finger, I am reminded of how much Misa hated us and how she sought to escape the life we were leading. She hated everything about being a wife and mother, she thought it was a death sentence, and would regularly break out of her perceived prison. I was her warden, or so she thought, and I would go out and drag her back and try to make her stay when I really should have just let her go and stayed behind to care for my little blue pigeon.

I wish my memories of Misa were not of our arguments or watching my dreams of a happy family die on a regular basis. I wish I could fondly remember the night we made Noriko or our wedding night or our wedding or the first time we met. Instead, I remember how she looked when she was angry, how loud she could be when she was screaming in my face, and the hate in her eyes whenever she looked at Noriko or me. If I could change one thing, it would be to make her fall in love with Noriko. If ever given a chance, I would go back and ensure she at least loved the daughter we created. I can handle being the one Misa hated, but I cannot accept that she hated Noriko when the girl’s only sin was being born.

I look down at my sleeping child and my heart breaks. She wants to know so much about her mother and I, the only one who can give her those secrets, cannot bring myself to tell her the truth because the truth will only hurt her. Is it wrong of me, her father, to want to protect her from her mother? Am I wrong to want the truth to die with me and those few who know it?

“Please don’t hate me,” I whisper in the dark, a quiet prayer from a struggling father to his darling child. I lean down and press a feather-light kiss to Noriko’s temple and slip out of her bed. I silently head out of her room and into mine, a place I try not to go unless I am too tired to think. I throw myself into the middle of the bed, clothes still on, and try to forget.

_“It’s almost four in the morning, Misa,” I said as my wife of almost a year came stumbling into our room, reeking of alcohol and smoke. “Where the hell have you been?”_

_Misa giggled as she clumsily took off her shoes. “I went out . . . to a party . . . in Long Island,” she replied between hiccups. “Why the third degree?”_

_“I was worried about you,” I snapped as I got out of bed and strode over to her chair. “I thought you were dead!”_

_Misa rolled her eyes and pushed my thigh. “You never let me have any fun. Ever since we got married, I haven’t had any fun.”_

_“You go out every night!” I argued, hearing the desperation and exasperation in my voice. This was going to go nowhere, just like always._

_“But it’s no fun because I know I have to come home to you,” she pointed out as she started taking off her dark blue silk flapper dress over her head. “I hate you.” She then paused and pulled down her dress so I could see her face. “Oh, I’m pregnant.”_

I close my eyes tighter as I recall the terrible night I learned about the best thing in my life. Finding out I was going to be a father should not have been during a fight with my drunken wife and me running on almost no sleep. It should have been after dinner while we sat and listened to music while we read or had a cordial conversation. That was just another thing I felt cheated out of by Misa. While she hated me and found no joy in being married to me, she took pleasure in trying to ensure I did not enjoy a moment of our marriage and she damn near succeeded.

_“I still don’t understand why you agreed,” said Takada as she poured me a cup of tea. “It’s painfully obvious that she doesn’t like you Light, let alone love you even after nearly two years.”_

_“I know,” I said as I rubbed my eyes, sore from a lack of sleep. “I thought it was a good idea at the time and that she was just upset that it was an arranged marriage.”_

_Takada sat down across from me and shook her head. “I wish I had married you when I had the chance.”_

_“It doesn’t work like that, Kiyomi,” I said with a soft smile. “And besides, doesn’t Teru make you happy?”_

_Her eyes shone with love, and she nodded. “He does, very much so. I enjoy his forward thinking and views on the world. He reminds me of you.”_

_My smile became strained, and the fussing sounds coming from the pram beside me served as a great distraction from my regrets. I stood up and gently picked my newborn daughter out of the pram and held her close to my chest._

_“How are you so sure she’s yours?” asked Takada coldly when she saw Noriko._

_I smiled at my daughter and ignored the harsh words of my friend. “Because she looks just like me and no one else in the world.” I then looked at Takada. “Would you like to hold her?”_

_Takada seemed hesitant, but she nodded. I stood up and made the short journey to her side of the table. Gingerly, I lowered Noriko into her arms, and she held her close, as if afraid of dropping her. I sat back down and smiled as I watched Takada quietly coo at Noriko, gently stroking her cheek with her thumb and telling her how pretty she was and how well behaved she was._

_“I can see why you love her,” said Takada quietly._

Those words echo in my mind, and to this day I am not sure whether she meant Noriko or Misa.

I sit up and get out of bed. There is no way I am going to sleep tonight, especially in here, so I head into the living room and fall into my chair. I sigh heavily. This is certainly not how I expected my day to end. I was hoping for a peaceful evening with my daughter, like last night, but that does not seem to be in the cards. I extend my left hand out in front of me, the band on my ring finger catches the dim light coming in from the windows, and I frown. That stupid, simple band of gold represents everything at which I failed. I was a terrible husband to Misa and a terrible detective when it mattered. Now I feel like I am a terrible father.

How can I be expected to answer her questions about her mother when I do not know all of the answers? _Why didn’t Mommy love me? I don’t know. Why was Mommy sad? Because she was married to me. Did you make her sad? I don’t know. Who killed Mommy? I don’t know. Why not? Because I couldn’t find the answers. Why not? Because I guess I’m not a great detective after all._

Detective. My left hand then touches my jacket pocket where the card Ryuzaki gave me before he left resides. I pull it out and look at it. The card itself is simple, white paper with his name printed in a slightly elaborate script in black ink. I turn it over to see the handwritten phone number. He told me to call him when I made my decision regarding the case. I already told Noriko I would do it, but I am not sure if I can. I want to know who killed Misa and why, I want to know more than I will ever admit, but at the same time I dread the answer.

_Who killed Mommy?_

That question bounces around in my head as I sit and watch the shadows dance outside. While I might not be able to answer every question Noriko will inevitably have regarding her mother, I at least want to be able to answer that one, and hopefully, the rest will fall into place. I stand up and head into the kitchen; I stand in front of the black phone and pick up the receiver and carefully dial the number on the card. I hear the operator say she will connect me and I wait for three seconds before I hear the line picked up on the other end.

 _“Yes?”_ asks Ryuzaki, as if expecting this call all along.

“Ryuzaki, this is Asahi,” I say calmly. “I’m in.”


	6. Chapter 6

It is precisely ten o’clock in the morning when Ryuzaki enters my office. I am sitting at my desk with Noriko on my lap, the two of us are reading the paper and trying to solve the daily crossword puzzle. She is the one who spots him.

“Mr. Ryuzaki!” she says excitedly, and I look up slowly to see him standing in front of Ryuk’s desk, the tip of his index finger pressed between his lips as he looks at the messy state in front of him. I look over his shoulder at the coat rack and see his jacket and hat placed beside mine and Noriko’s.

He turns when he hears his name and smiles pleasantly at Noriko. “Good morning, Miss Yagami. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you,” she says politely. “How are you?”

“No complaints, thank you,” he says as he resumes looking at the desk. “I assume this is Ryuk Brivio’s desk?”

“How do you know Uncle Ryuk?” asks Noriko curiously and I almost pat her on the head for catching that detail instead of answering his simple question.

Ryuzaki turns back to her and smirks. “I make it my business to know everything about the people I work with.”

Something in his reply unsettles me greatly.

“What do you know about me?” asks Noriko, leaning forward slightly.

“I know your name is Noriko Yagami, you were born on August fourteenth to Light and Misa Yagami,” replies Ryuzaki, rattling off private facts like he is talking about the weather. “You attend the girl’s school on Second Street, and your teacher is Miss Katsumi Takada, younger sister to your father’s friend Kiyomi Takada, the first female reporter in the city. Your nanny is Rem Brivio, wife to Ryuk and a former Broadway actress before an accident took her off the stage permanently. She still designs costumes and takes small roles from time to time, and is still greatly respected in the theatrical world.” His smirk deepens when he sees Noriko and I just staring at him with our mouths slightly open. “Shall I continue?”

“No, I think you’ve proven your point,” I say flatly. I do not enjoy hearing such personal information being spoken of like he intends to use it against me at a later date. “Nori, why don’t you go to Sal’s and see if he needs help with the store?”

Noriko shakes her head. “I want to stay here and talk to Mr. Ryuzaki. You’re going to talk about your new case, and I want to hear about it.”

“No, you’re too young,” I say sternly as I gently push her off my lap.

Noriko stubbornly refuses to budge. “I am not! I can help!” She looks at Ryuzaki imploringly. “Tell him I can stay, please?!”

Ryuzaki seems torn and amused at this turn of events. “While I certainly believe you’re capable of comprehending what we discuss and might be of some insight, I don’t want to go against your father’s wishes either.”

“I promise I’ll be quiet!” continues Noriko, her brown eyes widening in an attempt to make herself appear cuter. “I’ll even make you coffee.”

“You can make coffee?” asks Ryuzaki, obviously intrigued.

My eight-year-old nods and looks pleased with herself at getting Ryuzaki’s attention. “My Aunt Sayu taught me. She taught me to do it in this fancy way by pouring hot water over grounds and a filter.”

Ryuzaki smiles warmly. “I can’t remember the last time I had coffee like that. Perhaps I shall take you up on your offer, Miss Yagami.”

“Maybe later,” I say eyeing my daughter carefully. “Right now, Mr. Ryuzaki and I need to start discussing our case, and you need to go do something productive in the meantime. Maybe you could go to Grandma’s shop and help her?”

Noriko frowns. “Why can’t I stay? You always make leave whenever you do something exciting.”

“I can assure you that going over notes and data is far from fun,” I say pinching her cheek just a little. “Now run along and keep out of trouble. Come back at noon, and we’ll discuss lunch.”

“Yes, sir,” sighs Noriko as she slides off my lap and starts walking to the door. When she passes Ryuzaki, she smiles brightly, and he returns it, although not as blindingly and continues out of the door.

“I apologize for the delay,” I say when I am sure the door is closed. “I love her dearly, but she can be stubborn.”

“Much like her father, I’m sure,” says Ryuzaki with a smirk as he sits down, again putting his foot up just a fraction before putting it back down. I notice that he is sitting with a slight slouch. “Why isn’t she in school?”

“I’m not sure that’s an appropriate question,” I say somewhat coldly. After listening to him name off all that he knew about my inner circle, and me I am not about to let him have information freely. If he wants to know, then he can look into it himself.

“Fair enough,” he says agreeably. “I just hope she doesn’t have to move schools again.”

“How is it you know everything about my family and me when I hardly know anything about you?” I ask, more than a little irritated with his blatant disregard for common courtesy.

Ryuzaki eyes me carefully before shrugging. “You never asked.”

“And I have a feeling you wouldn’t tell me the truth even if I asked,” I retort, reclining back in my seat, arms crossed over my chest.

“I can’t dispute that,” he says, and I frown. “You and your daughter have the same frown.”

“She gets most of her looks from me,” I say as I try to relax my face into something neutral. This man knows how to get under my skin.

“I wish my sons did,” he says, looking out of the window above Ryuk’s desk. “They all look like their mother, even my youngest. I was truly hoping one would look a little like me.”

I can sympathize with him on that point. I was afraid that Noriko would come out looking just like Misa and nothing at all like me. “We’re getting off topic here,” I say, steering the conversation in the direction I want. “We need to discuss the LA Killer.”

“Do we? I was quite enjoying our previous conversation,” says Ryuzaki with a slight smile. “It’s so rare that I get to speak about my children with someone else who would understand my struggles as a single parent.”

I can tell he is trying to relate to me, to get me to let my guard down because we can connect on something personal. I will play his game for now; I might even learn something genuine about him in the process. “I guess I can understand that desire,” I say, relaxing my stance. “Whenever I mention I’m a single father, I get all of these looks like everyone feels sorry for it.”

Ryuzaki nods. “I hate those looks. They get worse when I say I have three children.”

“To be honest, that would be difficult for two parents,” I say with a chuckle, “especially three boys. Although, three girls would be hard too; there isn’t a chance in hell I’d have enough resources to have them all followed when they go on dates.”

“Is that your plan when Noriko is old enough?” he asks, smiling slightly and I nod. “I feel sorry for whoever fancies her.”

“So do I,” I laugh, admittedly it feels nice to have someone to talk to about Noriko. Most fathers I know are not as involved with their children as I am and most mothers pity the fact I have to raise her by myself. “I haven’t given much thought to when Noriko dates, beyond tailing them, honestly I find it hard to believe that someday she’ll be a grown woman and making her own decisions.”

“My eldest is already trying,” says Ryuzaki somewhat forlornly. “He’s fourteen and already trying to exert his independence. His favorite line right now is ‘you can’t make me.’ I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to resort to saying, “I’m your father and yes I can.” But I know that won’t work with him, Mihael is not one to easily fall for such an excuse.”

“Mihael?” I repeat, wondering if I heard him correctly.

“Yes, a strange name, I agree,” he says with a chuckle. “My late wife had a strange way of naming our children. I never had a say, except with their middle names. She told me she liked the name Michael, but she didn’t like the letter C, so when it came time to name him, she named him Mihael.”

“Interesting,” I say, barely concealing a chuckle. “What are your other sons’ names?”

“Mail and Nate,” he says, and I can only imagine the stories behind them. The last one especially, it sounds so average compared to his brothers.

“Dare I ask how they acquired their names?” I ask, smirking.

Ryuzaki laughs. “You may, but I warn you, please don’t judge my late wife too punitively. Our middle son, she knew was going to be male, just by intuition. So she gave him a variation of the word as a name as a way to tell the doctors that they were wrong and to constantly remind them of the fact. With our last, she liked the name Nathan but thought it was too long, so she gave him the nickname as the name instead. Surprisingly normal compared to his brothers, but I think my wife knew he’d be different from them, so she gave him a name with origins to fit that.”

“How is he different?” I ask despite myself.

“My eldest is rowdy and a troublemaker through and through,” explains Ryuzaki fondly. “My middle son goes along with whatever his brother wants but manages to keep him out of too much trouble, and my youngest is quiet and prefers solitude to interacting with his brothers.” He sighs slightly and shakes his head. “I feel like I’m failing him. My attention is pulled in a dozen directions, and sometimes I feel like he’s an afterthought. I love him as dearly as I love his brothers, but I’m not there for him the same way I’m there for them. If I were, maybe he wouldn’t act like he does and want to be with others.”

I frown slightly at his words. I feel like I am failing Noriko as well but not for the same reasons if anything I shower my child with love and attention on a daily basis. Deep down, I am sure I do it just to try and cover up the fact that I have not stepped up in other ways for her, particularly where her mother is concerned.

“I know how you feel,” I say, deciding that if I am going to get anywhere with him, I will need to demonstrate some vulnerability. It will at least make him believe I am unaware of his true intentions. “With Nori, I find myself overcompensating in some areas while grossly neglecting others.”

“Is that why you haven’t told her about her mother?” he asks, and I can barely contain my contempt. “It’s alright; I can understand wanting to shield her from the details. How much does she know?”

“Just that her mother died when she was young,” I reply, and as the words leave my mouth, I can feel a lead weight lodge itself deep in my chest. “I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell her everything.”

“Understandable,” says Ryuzaki sympathetically. “I read about the case and . . . and there are certain things children don’t need to know until they’re older.”

I give him a half smile, glad that at least someone understands my reasoning. My friends and family seem to be opposed to it and want me to tell Noriko everything.

“Now, we should discuss our little fugitive,” says Ryuzaki quickly, changing the line of conversation effortlessly. “Do you have a map? I’ve been trying to determine where he might strike next and it would be easier to explain if I had a visual aid.”

* * *

 

We spend the next several hours working. We debate possible locations the killer might be staying or where he might strike next. I tell Ryuzaki about every known Mafia location, including the houses on Long Island, along with the heads of each Family, who controlled which district, and who would give us the most trouble down the road. In turn, he tells me everything he knows about the LA Killer, including a rough profile of what kind of person he might be based on his crimes and the state of his victims in and before death. When the clock on the wall chimes two, we both look up from the papers scattered in front of us.

“I didn’t realize we’d been working for so long,” I say with a chuckle. Honestly, this is the first time since I became a detective that I feel like I am talking to someone on my level. Ryuzaki can keep up with my thinking, and I can follow his with very no guidance, seeing where he made his claims in the evidence and going down another path when I notice something else. I can jump around from theory to theory, idea to idea, and he is following along right beside me. I have never met anyone like him, and this work session just seems to strengthen his claim that he is L.

“Yes, we seem to have lost track of time,” agrees Ryuzaki as he looks down at some papers containing possible motives. “Didn’t you tell Noriko to return for lunch?”

“I did,” I say, glancing at the clock. “I wonder what’s taking her?”

“Perhaps she already helped herself to a sundae?” suggests Ryuzaki as we stand up. I notice that he is still standing slightly hunched over. “We should go to Sal’s and investigate.”

“Noriko knows better than to have something like a sundae without asking,” I say as I put my jacket and hat on. I hand him his, and that is when I notice that Noriko did not take hers. “I need to make a quick phone call.”

I hurry over to the phone and dial for the operator, asking to be connected to my mom’s flower store. It rings three times before my mom picks up.

 _“Hello?”_ she asks, sounding concerned.

“Mom, it’s Light,” I say, holding the receiver closely to my ear. “Is Noriko at the store?”

 _“She was for a little while,”_ she says. _“I sent her out on an errand and told her to get lunch on her way back. I guess she got sidetracked. Why wasn’t she at school, Light? She wouldn’t tell me.”_

“She wasn’t feeling well this morning,” I lie, not willing to divulge the truth to my mother. She worries about us enough. “Is Sayu there?”

 _“No, she stepped out to run a few errands,”_ she says, and I can almost see the worry on her face. _“Why? Did something happen?”_

“No, I was just curious,” I reply, sounding calmer than I feel. “I was going to ask her to come in this afternoon, but if she’s busy then don’t bother to tell her. Just let her know to be in tomorrow morning.”

 _“Alright,”_ says Sachiko pleasantly. _“Please stop by on Sunday after church for dinner, Light. Your father and I miss seeing you and Noriko.”_

“I’ll try,” I say with a slight chuckle. I do not have the heart to tell her that Noriko and I have not attended church in years.

My mother and her family converted when they came to New York from Japan as a means of becoming American and when Sayu and I were younger, we went to church twice a week. After Misa and I married, I went and dragged Misa with me, until we had Noriko and then I only took her. When Misa died, I stopped going. I could not bring myself to worship a deity I no longer believed in.

 _“Alright dear, goodbye, I love you,”_ she says warmly.

“I love you, too, Mom,” I say, and I hang up, my hands trembling slightly.

“Is Noriko with your mother?” asks Ryuzaki, watching me with his dark eyes.

I shake my head. “No, she hasn’t seen her for a while now.”

“Perhaps we should go on a walk,” he says, and I nod, understanding immediately what he has planned and I am grateful.

We hurry out of my office and to the stairs, my patience to thin to wait for the elevator and with the way I am feeling right now, I could have run to Canada and back without breaking a sweat. I reach the bottom of the stairs before Ryuzaki and rush out of the building onto the bustling sidewalk.

“Noriko!” I shout as loudly as I can. “Noriko, where are you?”

“Noriko!” I hear Ryuzaki should beside me. “Noriko!”

“You go left, and I’ll go right,” I say tersely. “We’ll meet back here in twenty minutes if we don’t find her here and go to another street.”

“Yes, Detective,” he says and starts jogging down the left half of the sidewalk.

I practically sprint down the right half, shouting for Noriko every other second and hoping she did not wander too far away. She is never late, and she never strays too much when out on an errand for any of us. She is more responsible than that. I reach the end of the sidewalk and cross to the other side, still shouting and garnering many strange looks as I do so but I hardly care. My baby is missing, and I will tear this city down if I have to to find her.

I make it halfway down the other side of the street when I hear someone shouting my name. I pause and listen again, I hear it clearly from the crowd and look across the street, seeing Ryuzaki standing outside of my building with Noriko beside him, their hands joined. I breathe a massive sigh of relief and nearly run out into the street before I decide that getting run down by a motorist would not be a great activity and run to the nearest crosswalk. I run across and to my building where Ryuzaki and Noriko are waiting for me.

“Noriko!” I say when I am closer. “Oh thank god!”

I come to a stop in front of them and kneel down in front of my daughter. She backs away from me slightly, and I hesitate to touch her, she never reacts this way. It is then I notice her head is down, obscuring my view of her face.

“Noriko, where were you?” I ask carefully.

“ . . .ool,” I hear her mumble.

“Don’t mumble, Noriko,” I say firmly, and she winces slightly. “Where were you?”

“School,” she repeats, still quiet but loud enough for me to hear her.

“Why were you at school?” I ask, glancing at Ryuzaki, his expression impassive.

“I was collecting my work,” she replies. “I was only there for a little while.”

“Noriko, look at me,” I say, taking her other hand in mine. “I’m not mad that you went to school, now please look at me.”

“I can’t,” she says, shaking her head.

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because you’ll be mad if I do,” she says, and my heart starts galloping in my chest.

“I promise I won’t be mad at you,” I say and squeeze her hand.

Noriko does not say anything in response. Ryuzaki shakes her hand a little, and finally, her head starts to come up, slowly. I watch as her forehead and bangs are revealed, followed by her eyebrows and eventually the rest follows. My blood turns to ice when I see Noriko’s face. There is an ugly black bruise on her left eye and several nasty scratches on the other. Her lip is split and still a little bloody, her cheeks are scratched as well, and as I take in her appearance, I notice bruises blooming across her arms and her knees are cut up to the point I am amazed she is still able to walk. Someone attacked her. Someone attacked my baby.

“Oh Noriko,” I say, tears welling in my eyes and anger flourishing in my chest. I see blood and dirt on her white shirt, and her stockings are ruined with blood and cuts. “What happened?”

“I think that is a conversation best held indoors,” says Ryuzaki calmly. I look up at him and realize he is standing with his back to the street, essentially shielding Noriko and me from gawkers. The man barely knows us, contrary to his claims, and yet he is putting himself between the world and us. Something strange and warm rushes through me just then.

“Of course,” I say, and I let go of Noriko’s hand only to scoop her up in my arms instead. I am sure she will complain about being treated like a baby or something about being embarrassed to be carried in public, but I hardly care. She is injured, and I need to have her close, so carrying her solves both problems.

When we are inside, we say nothing and head for the elevator. It arrives, and we step in, the three of us still quiet, and all I can do is seethe as I listen to my child whimper. This is not supposed to happen; my child is not supposed to be attacked like this. I hold her tighter, and she wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” asks Ryuzaki softly and I nod.

The elevator doors slide open, and I step out, not even giving the attendant a chance to speak as I hurry to my office. I would rather be taking her home and protecting her from the world there, but she needs immediate attention, and home is too far away right now. When we enter the office, I sit down at my desk, and she moves so she is sitting in my lap, her head against my shoulder and my arms wrapped securely around her. I silently direct Ryuzaki to the first aid kit in the cabinet under the main office phone, and he returns with it, I move the chair, and he kneels in front of Noriko and me, and he begins to tend her wounds. I would do it myself, but I cannot bear the thought of being separated from her right now, not until I know she is going to be all right.

I watch as Ryuzaki removes Noriko’s stockings and shoes before he gently dabs a piece of cloth soaked in antiseptic against one of her knees. She hisses and jerks back, but Ryuzaki has his hand on her calf and is holding her injury still. I can tell he has done this before, likely for his sons.

“I’m sorry,” he says kindly. “This will sting, but I promise not for long. If it still hurts after I’m done with the bandage, then you can have a dollar.”

“Okay,” says Noriko and I can hear the tears in her voice.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” I ask, bringing a hand to her hair and stroking it gently.

“I was ambushed,” she replies, her eyes on Ryuzaki as he continues to clean her knees. I can feel her wincing, but she is making a great effort not to cry. “I was going inside school through the play yard when several girls from my grade and some from other grades came up and starting yelling at me. I told them to stop and to go away, but they wouldn’t. One of them picked up a rock and threw it at me. It hit my arm and then the others started to throw things. I used my arms to block them.”

I glance down at her arms and see the bruises again, congruent with other defensive wounds I have seen in my career.

“Then I started to fight back,” she continues, her eyes cutting to me for a moment before she closes them in pain. “I hit one girl in the face and another in the chest. I thought they would go away after that, but then someone pushed me down and started hitting my back. Then someone pushed me over and got on top of me. I couldn’t see who, my arms were in the way, but then they were down, and the girl attacked my face.”

“How did you get away?” asks Ryuzaki as he moves to tend her split lip, her knees bandaged up now.

“A teacher came out and told them to go back inside,” she says before he presses a damp cloth against her lips. She flinches but does not move back. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I ask incredulously. “You were attacked unprovoked. If anything, I should be saying sorry because I wasn’t there to protect you.”

“I thought this was getting better,” she says forlornly. “I like school but not with them there.”

“Maybe I should go to school with you,” I say, kissing her hair. “Or get you a bodyguard.”

Ryuzaki looks at me curiously. “A bodyguard you say? I might be able to assist.”

“You know someone who could be a bodyguard?” I ask, staring at him curiously.

“Yes, I know three people,” he says, and I start to become suspicious. “My sons are all trained to fight, and they’re here in New York, not too far away actually. I can call my grandfather and have him bring them over in a couple of days.”

“Mihael, Mail, and Nate are here?” I ask, and Noriko furrows her eyebrows.

“Those are weird names,” she says, and Ryuzaki chuckles.

“They are, but they fit,” he says as he looks at her shiner. “I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do about that. I would suggest some cold cream for the swelling and maybe a compress.”

“I have ice at the apartment,” I say as Noriko takes my hands in hers. “Thank you for helping.”

“It was my pleasure,” he says, and he sounds sincere. “I believe that it’s time I departed. I will be in contact soon, Detective. Please, take care of her.”

“I will,” I say, holding Noriko closer. “Good day, Ryuzaki.”

“Good day, Light,” he says, and then he leans down to kiss Noriko’s hands, his lips accidentally brushing against mine in the process. I ignore the flash of warmth in my gut. “Good day, Noriko.”

“Good day,” she says, smiling up at him. “Please come back.”

He smiles kindly at her in return. “I will.”


End file.
